Legend of the Phoenix Brothers
by Lord Onisyr
Summary: Tales from the lives of Salmryn Do'Urden and Khallis Raen Entreri an unlikly team of bards, thieves, adventurers, and sons of two legendary rivals. An episodic story taking place after 'Siren's Cry.'
1. Prologue

**Legend of the Phoenix Brothers**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast © with the exception of Elminster and Lord Piegiron who are the properties of Ed Greenwood/ Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

Author's Note: Welcome to the sequel of my experimental fic "Siren's Cry."

This story focuses on Salmryn Do'Urden from when we last saw him shortly after his extraordinary birth in the last story and shows how his life progresses as he grows up. This story also follows the life of Khallis Raen-Entreri, an unlikely friend of Salmryn's with quite a colorful family himself.

"Legend of the Phoenix Brothers" will be told in a series of scenes from the two men's lives, alternating from the current time and flashbacks on moments from their early lives. This story really has no linear format and is mostly told episodically.

"Legend of the Phoenix Brothers" is rated R for strong language, graphic violence, and adult themes.

**Prologue**

**10 of Flamerule, 1393 DR The Year of Silver Flames**

I do not fancy myself much of a seer, preferring to leave that job to more skilled diviners than I. I prefer more the present, though it is said the past and I are too good of friends. As for the future, I look far enough to tomorrow's breakfast and next tenday's gathering of gnome illusionists.

I am not an expert diviner, though I will report one portent of the future that will more likely than not come into being. I see at two men of opposite morals, lots in life, and reputations who are not likely to be pleased; all because of one party.

Lord Piegeiron is already less than pleased over the affair. It was one night of thievery, murder, and ill magic all taking place at once…at his palace…on the night of his retirement party.

No one actually saw what took place and it was so inconspicuous few even heard the hurly burly that must have ensued, though the large alchemical blast could hardly be ignored. In one second a gathering of about a hundred Waterdhavian nobles, merchants, and general well-wishers to the retired Open Lord were drawn away from their business talk and dancing to the lower levels of the castle after a loud crack and shake of the chandeliers.

All that was left for the guards to clean and the partiers to gawk was a large circle of black soot against the wall in the palace wine cellar and a circle of regrettably familiar red-robed wizards lying on the newly resealed floor. All of the five Thayan wizards were dead, their robes and flesh bearing clean slashes of swords and knives of a kind we have yet to determine.

It was a scene that had us scratching our respective heads and the ensuing investigation only raised more questions. The dead Red Wizards were hardly novices by our investigation. None of them bore any longer blade than gold utility daggers that were hardly capable of inflicting those wounds.

The blast was they're doing most certain, though the full story was a bit more chilling; these five men all carried a new mixture of alchemist's fire that was at least five times more unstable than the regular substance. Each had one of the stuff and I reckon it was at least as much to take out most of the castle. Judging by their location in the Lord's castle, that was exactly their intentions.

They could have entered the castle through any means, whether through the party or a counterward against the protections surrounding the walls.

They were ultimately thwarted, only having a moment to unleash a curtain of flames against the wall. We reckoned the flames were meant for their assailants, though that's the bigger mystery.

The heroes of our tale are no where to be found. With the frontward position of the wizard's wounds, the swordsmen should have been in direct line of the flames; though there were no bodies and no ashes of any being on the floor, in the wall, or even in the wizard's pockets. It was like they vanished into the flames.

If that wasn't the puzzler, another layer was added within the tenday as items turned up missing; a golden light orb, a few decorative swords made from precious stones and metals, numerous stores of coins were tapped, the list continued. It was clear a thief or thieves managed to get into the castle, likely as party guests, though found away around the numerous wards of protection and alarm on some of the more ornate items such as the ones that were missing.

Let us put all these pieces together; five Red Wizards show up with a potent brew and are all killed by mystery swordsmen who vanished in thin fire. Add a few clear cases of larceny and you have the cherry on top of a most peculiar cake.

I wracked my brain over this mystery for nearly a month; no clues were emerging and nothing was wrapping up to a logical conclusion. I cannot say I didn't enjoy myself, quite the opposite. It was a fun puzzle I had not pieced in too long.

Lord Peigeiron was less than pleased and understandably so. He not only had a thief in his castle he could not identify through any means and he had five Red Wizards try to topple the building in some egregious plot. He was also less than pleased with my enthusiasm over this mystery.

"You may have lost a few gems, old friend," I reminded him, "though you could have lost much, much more."

I think he got a little less red after this. His Lordship is a reasonable man, though a man of law. If the thieves were the same ones who thwarted the murderous plot, the Lord would give his congratulations along with a lesser sentence for burglary.

I collected more and more evidence, from pebbles plucked from the floor to scrapes of soot from the wall to anything else. For one month I mixed finding our heroic rogues with my other projects, finding this one a bit more amusing and a bit more frustrating at the same time.

After one month of analysis and investigation, the gleeful moment of resolution came after a simple scry spell was fine-tuned to show auras as well. A few added pinches of red sulfur would play out the entire episode in a moment of victory that ended with more wonder with a dab of concern.

Our heroes were two young men; two students from New Olamn who I actually had for dinner one night. I will not share the names if the two lads for reasons I will share later in this writing. I will say one was human, a fiddler and duelist with a knack for minor sorcery. The other was an expert swordsman with the singing voice of pure beauty; one of the scarce few the water genasi in New Olamn.

They were in the cellar, adjusting an item with a golden glint in a bag of holding as they snuck up on the wizards. The Thayans had formed a circle of power; a seal in the middle bearing a bowl for the elixir.

Swords came out, wands came out, and the two boys went directly against these five higher mages…and they were astounding. The speed at which these two student bards danced in front of the Thayans, dodging fireballs and missiles, and swinging their swords was lightening in motion. They just plowed through, stepping enough into the circle to disrupt it and nimbly jumping out enough to not be caught in its magic.

Within the minute, three Thayans lay dead. The two remaining managed to evade them though took slashes to the throat and chest. The wall of fire was their last gasp and I watched in horror as the lads vanished from sight against the flaming wall shot at them as the wizards died.

I saw the flames, and I saw the lads walk from the flames a bit singed but otherwise well; their handsome faces in smirks of cocky yet appreciative victory. The blue glow on the fiddler's belt was my explanation; a cold shielding gem that the average wielder is lucky if he is protected from a campfire. Somehow they managed to enhance it to work against this flame, though both were in tact thanks to wither a miracle or some skillful tweaking.

The water-kin scattered a white sand over the circle, completely absorbing its magic as the human drew a circle of high teleportation in the floor. He grabbed his companion's arm and they both disappeared within the magic of the circle.

A few scry spells and a personal, yet disguised, visit to New Olamn told me the lads were safe, in tact, and returning to their studies and late night philosophy sessions over wine. I did not know what became of their loot though neither was flaunting any more jewelry, weapons, or instruments of any greater value than what either already had.

They had accomplished a near-perfect robbery; a task the most accomplished thieves would give their teeth for. In the process they saved the lives of over a hundred people from an evil plot.

It is a tale worthy of their fellow bards, a tale of nobility and skill that my mind's ear is already humming.

It is also a tale I am keeping to myself for the time being as I know there is yet another, perhaps more tangy layer.

The fathers of these lads are themselves the subject of many a tale, their names almost telling the tales themselves. One is a hero, a noble yet humble ranger who overcame his ill heritage to save kingdoms in the name of goodness. The second is a villainous assassin of deadly skill whose deeds have claimed lives, yet liberated many through some seeds of reluctant gallantry.

Both men have used their legendary sword skills against each other on many an occasion, both coming to the brink of death after a few of those battles. They are known as great rivals, though as of late they have been more content to carry out their own affairs as opposed to any more rounds of trying to kill each other.

I am not personally acquainted with either of the scoundrel's fathers, though their reputations and tales of their deeds speak volumes.

It is these two men who are likely not to be pleased. I know both still live and tales I have heard tell both still speak with their sons. I imagine the ranger would have angry words with his son for being there in the first place. The assassin would have seething words with his son for being so careless in his work, leaving bodies behind during such a sensitive mission.

Yet maybe these two fathers will be proud of their boys. The ranger, a noble soul but hardly a man of strict order, would hail his boy's heroism and skill as he thwarted five villains. As for the assassin, his lad after all did break in to Lord Peigeiron's castle, steal many precious items, and kill five Red Wizards without being caught.

Then again divination was never my strongest suit. I do, however, have a weakness for a bit of sentiment.

When I think on these two able young men, I think of an unlikely partnership; the sons of two mortal enemies as friends and business partners.

It is a thought on my mind every time I sneak into the Golden Horn Gambling House and see two those two young men on stage; the human in his ruffled finery strumming his Calishite fiddle and the genasi in skin tight leather strumming his yarting and belting out a Monshae pirate shanty with his haunting vocals.

I see before me two brothers who came from the flames like the proud phoenixes they are and displaying their colors for all to see.

-Elminster of Shadowdale


	2. Part 2: 1374

**Legend of the Phoenix Brothers**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

**Part 2**

**23 of Eleasis, 1374 DR, The Year of Lightening Storms**

**Heliogabalus, Damara**

It was a moment where Calihye truly hated herself. Unfortunately, these moments were becoming a bit too common, doing little for her already fragile mental state.

She leaned back in the gaudy, red velvet couch Jarlaxle had found in his travels and given to her as a "house warming present"

Jarlaxle was good for such gifts, though they were merely bones thrown at one of his most prosperous slaves; giving pretty things to a hardly pretty lady who was becoming less and less pretty day by day.

The house itself was a tiny apartment in the merchant section of Heliogabalus with the rent naturally coming out of Jarlaxle's coffers; coffers she had been charged with filling for the past four years.

She was commander of trade operations for the Black Field Company, a fancy little name for his Bregan D'aerthe subsidiary to give it a little legitimacy.

It was indeed a legitimate trading company, dealing in the transport and trade of bloodstones from the Bloodstone Lands. Its workers and managers were all thieves, murderers, and other sorts of criminals Jarlaxle was keeping hidden from King Gareth's increasingly watchful eye.

It was a company formed through Jarlaxle's greedy inspiration with the pure convenience of having the wizard Knellict, the formerly powerful leader of the Citadel of Assassins now believed to be dead by Gareth and his other Ilmatherian friends. Knellict was in charge of mining and transport operations, doing work like a good little slave now that Jarlaxle had essentially saved him from the king and blackmailed him at the same time.

Calihye knew she was no less a slave, Jarlaxle and his foul friend Kimmuriel catching her at her weakest point; a moment where she would have rather died though the drow kept her alive to use in their business ventures.

She was hardly treated like a slave; a fact she knew though did little to ease the reality. She was operations manager, talking to buyers, organizing trade routes and keeping track of shipments; a job she knew she did not get because Jarlaxle liked her. Four years ago she knew she was headed for hauling carts of bloodstones or guarding caravans.

It was a job she was initially put to after Kimmuriel found her…naked…on the side of the street in a mess of broken glass…her emotions and nerves destroyed, leaving her wanting to cut her own throat with a piece of glass. Kimmuriel stopped her, though she mourned his intervention.

It was all because of one man that she was put in such a vulnerable position…and because of one man that she was put to less physically taxing and less perilous.

Calihye tried not to eye the small bottle of whisky on the table across the room where she had put it to stop her from drinking any more. The bottle was already half empty, the result of nearly a day of sipping. She lacked the strength to pound back glass after glass like she could in her adventuring days, or more frequently over the past three years. Besides she could barely stand let alone hop up on her nimble feet and have it in her hand in a moment.

She had changed over the past four years. It should have been for the better, though only the worse was meant to follow her. It had for the past four years…ever since he came into her life and wrecked everything.

"You sleepy, mommy," a tiny voice rang through her haze.

Calihye picked her heavy head from her chest and looked at the small creature standing in front of her. His chubby arms were hung at his sides as his huge eyes looked up into hers; eyes filled with curiosity, though concern and a bit of fear was there too. She didn't want him to worry about her and the last thing she wanted was for him to be afraid. Here he was; staring at his mommy with a concern that should not be in the eyes of a four-year-old.

"Mommy's a little tired, Kay," she said, becoming more aware of how her once graceful voice with a mix of hard human rasp and elven melody was now a harsh, yet muted sound. "But mommy will take a little nap and feel better."

It was a lie, Calihye thought; a lie meant to ease the mind of her son. It was a lie that tore at her; she would not get better, she would never be better. The fact her boy was seeing her like this was more torture; he should not be exposed to the site of his mother as a broken down drunk. She shouldn't have been exposed to the sight of her son, her one little star of hope, gazing at her in concern. She deserved no concern, especially from this small angel.

She named him Khallis the moment of his birth; a combination of Chondathan and elven meaning "snow star;" a name combining her ancestry with her only fond childhood memories involving her home village in Vaasa. He was purity and beauty as the snow, his name reclaiming some of the only happy moments of her life.

He was her happiness, and he was hers and hers alone.

It was an ideal she had to hold; the one shining hope in her life coming from unspeakable sorrow, anger, and humiliation.

Her tired eyes savored his thick mop of black hair and those huge brown eyes. He had his father's features, though this visage was of innocence and life not the coldness and murder his father embodied.

She tried not to see Artemis Entreri's features in this little ray of light; avoiding the dark memories that haunted her for the past four years.

Calihye thought she loved him once; he was as much a creature broken by the world and made into stone as she. He was her foil, a person to which she truly related. Though he was not the love of her life; the love of her life was dead and at his hand.

Khallis walked off, though glancing at her from the corner of his eye while walking to the stack of wooden blocks with which he had occupied himself with earlier. Her hazy eyes followed him across the room. She did not want him to leave, though he was a boy and boys should play instead of staring at his mother sitting in a couch and wasting her life away.

He deserved so much better than her, she thought, managing to shift her position on the couch and eye the bottle again.

She wanted to end her pregnancy at first; the first thought that went through her head when she did not have her monthly bleed.

She was already a caravan guard for the Black Field Company in her first few months of paid slavery to Jarlaxle. She came into this terrible state after she tried to kill Artemis while making love to him; her anger and sadness taking control of her and finally fighting whatever small amount of affection she had for him…the man who killed her Parissus, the man who lead the Citadel of Assassins to her door, the man who destroyed her once adventurous life. She hoped he had killed her by throwing her from that window, though she lived.

Caliyhe had never lain with anyone else but Parissus; men never interested her and Entreri was the only man in ten years she had ever shared a bed with. The father of her baby was only obvious.

She wanted to end her pregnancy and she could have; the thought of carrying the child of the man who destroyed her life ate at her soul. Instead she kept her child, wanting a miracle from this year of hell; her own living joy.

Khallis was her boy; his father was a moot point.

Jarlaxle knew she was pregnant, a fact she would rather he had not known for fear he would tell Entreri. Entreri never surfaced again; Kimmuriel made small remarks about how the human ran off, tail between legs.

He was supposed to have been banished from Damara after taking over the reproduction of Castle Perilous with intentions of forming his own kingdom. This hardly stopped him from occasionally making surprise visits and disappear through a teleport later before anyone else knew he was there. When he was gone, he had too many spies working for his interests. Jarlaxle knew all.

Jarlaxle did take her off guard duty, giving her more of a role in the trading company that did not involve too much physical activity.

When Khallis was born, he was her focus of attention and she was a good mother. She tended to his needs, played with him, told him stories, and spent any moment to be with her little shining hope.

Calihye tried to pick herself off the couch; not with the intention of going for the bottle but merely to do something besides sit.

She could never pinpoint the moment where everything changed; when she started spending her nights in taverns drinking with men and women who amused her. She could not pinpoint the first occasion she paid the frail, cripple old lady who lived on the street to watch Khallis while she took part in "business negotiations." He was never hurt…miraculously. Night after night she would stumble from the tavern to see Khallis doing a little dance while the wretch clapped merrily.

She stopped going to taverns; instead she would store bottles of liquor in her apartment and do her paperwork between swigs. Jarlaxle was never around to notice, yet his beady red eyes were almost everywhere. He remained silent about her drinking, probably never knowing about it yet she doubted that assumption.

He knew she was a pathetic drunk who could never care for her son and should be dead anyway; maybe he would think the same way she did. Maybe she should have never had a son; the flesh and blood of the cold murderer who killed the love of her life. It was another thought that was becoming too prevalent these days during her drunken haze

"Look, mommy," the voice shouted. Calihye picked up her nodding head again, seeing Khallis standing in front of a block tower taller than he; happiness shining in his face. "A castle, mommy. I maded a castle."

"That's beautiful, darling," she said, leaning forward.

She wanted to get up and sweep him up in her arms, though her legs let her go no further than her sitting position on the couch. Her arms were heavy, though she tried to lift them to at least reach out for him.

Her wrists came an inch from the cushion and fell back down. Calihye wanted to cry, though she lacked the tears. She couldn't even reach out and hug her own son, instead sitting on the couch trying to keep her eyes open after days of drinking.

Khallis' eyes focused on her again, his mouth drooping from his happy smile to a look of concern. Calihye merely smiled; there was nothing more she could do.

"Mommy's okay, love," she said, her head becoming heavier. "Mommy's just going to take a little nap and I will be bright as sunshine."

Khallis smiled, walking over to her and placing a chubby hand on hers. She managed to reach up a hand and caress his soft hair as her lids became heavier.

"Happy dweams, mommy," he said, watching his mother's eyes droop then close as she slumped back in the couch.

------------------------------

"Don't tell me this surprises you, Jarlaxle," Kimmuriel said, looking at his cohort with bored disgust. "We all knew she would prove unreliable."

Jarlaxle never took his gaze from the couch, shaking his head at the scene in front of him.

"Such a pity," Jarlaxle said, his disappointment and disgust evident in his voice.

The feeling of anger with a sad tint was one emotion he managed to keep inside. This was a mess, a waste, a scene of absolute wretchedness he had not recognized in years. This was more than lost resources; this was something that managed to break past his the stone wall that was his emotions and truly make him feel ill.

"I would say she's been dead for a whole day," Kimmuriel said dourly, looking over the half-elf's prone form.

Her head rested on he top of the couch while rest of her bloated body conformed to the contours of the cushions. Her body was stiff, her skin a pale shade of green as her mouth gaped open.

"I would say he drink caught up with her," Jarlaxle said with a sigh, his eyes scanning the apartment for the other occupant.

"I could have told you that a year ago," Kimmuriel said. "I told you she was becoming a liability. I should have roasted her brain as I wanted to…"

"Though I forbade you," Jarlaxle said, "She was useful and very productive."

The Baenre mercenary at last spotted a pair of black eyes peaking from behind the thin door that separated his room from the rest of the apartment. Jarlaxle crouched down, motioning to Khallis to come forward.

Khallis stayed behind the door at first, looking the visitors up and down with the same wary eyes as his father. Jarlaxle smiled and removed his hat in a sweeping genuflect, keeping his eye on the boy. Khallis slowly inched forward, walking toward the two drow while looking at his mother with the gaze of a protective wolf.

"Well met, Khallis," Jarlaxle said in his cheeriest tone.

Khallis put an authoritative finger to his lips.

"Shh," he said, "you'll wake my mommy."

Jarlaxle let the shiver through his spine go unnoticed.


	3. Part 3: 1376

**Legend of the Phoenix Brothers**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

**Part 3**

**28 of Ches, 1376 DR The Year of the Bent Blade  
Mithral Hall**

The pair of tiny boots was still sticking out of the snow, yet were swaying and kicking lightly; indicators their owner was still in the midst of his merry exploring.

Drizzt kept his position, lavender eyes regularly scouring the mile and a half of perimeter around Mithral Hall he had patrolled for the past hour while looking back regularly at the feet sticking out of the snow and making sure they were still in their position.

The kicking stilled, though soon the boot treads were back in the snow as their owner shook the snow from his long, green hair.

A smile crept across the drow ranger's face. If there was one sight that could make him beam instantly it was the sight of his son in the midst of merry innocent play. He wanted to just stay in this moment; watching the small boy blow on the snow before diving his face back in and exploring a bit more. Snow when exposed to hot breath became water, which he breathed like air. He was indeed a clever little creature.

Drizzt took another look around the perimeter, creeping a few feet along yet staying within the radius of the small creature in the snow. His keen elven ears only heard the calm wind and the shuffling of little hands combined with a few light grunts of effort. There were no barks from orcs, no whistles of flying arrows, and no growls from attacking creatures.

He did see a brown timber wolf on the snowy hills about a mile away, though she merely glanced over at the humanoid before sniffing at the snow for the scent of a passing lemur.

By strict reason, he shouldn't have been out here with the little genasi; a sudden attack could result in complete disaster. Catti-brie had told him such several times, though the Hall had been quiet as of late; the orcs staying in their holes and leaving the Hall at peace. There was probably little harm in bringing the boy outside for at least an hour for a little fresh air as long as he stayed within close range of the Hall.

Drizzt stopped and took a long breath of fresh, winter air; the smell of pine and wood smoke from the Hall mixed with the sight of miles of snowy peaks. It was pure bliss out here; a moment of sheer quiet that was always welcome. The sound of the little creature blowing on the snow again before digging in more rapidly made Drizzt feel completely happy.

That was his flesh and blood digging through the snow; a miraculous result of his stolen seed and a monster's egg he was forced to carry in his own body four years ago. He only learned being accosted by horrible creatures known as sirens resulted in him carrying their spawn only an hour before the creature was cut from him.

It was supposed to be a creature with claws and a tooth-filled maw that would claw and eat its way out of him. Instead a pirate cleric, a drow priest of Vhaeraun named Akyth Jhaellin and the lone survivor of a siren attack on the ship _Bloody Tess_, cut him open and pulled out a healthy baby boy.

Drizzt was not given the opportunity to understand the miracle he had been given until two days after the babe's birth. Carrying a kicking infant surrounded in a toxic placenta cause massive trauma to his internal organs and resulted in his heart stopping briefly, putting him into a shallow coma. He awoke two days later, his beloved Catti-brie clasping his hand and a priestess of Mielikki putting the infant in his arms.

The infant was not a siren-spawn but a more humanoid creature the priests and mages who examined him agreed was a water genasi. He had the reactions of any normal child, though had the ability to breathe water like air while his body did bear indicators of his siren heritage. There were several different speculative reasons why this siren-spawn became normal child, though Drizzt stopped thinking on them and more considered his little boy a gift from whatever gods.

His name was Salmryn, a drow term for a rare gem that forms from green fungus being pressed down for thousands of years under the weight of Underdark lakes. It was a name suggested offhand by Akyth in parting.

"A gem from the fungus, friend," Akyth said, stroking the baby's green hair before leaving in a mass of shadows. "Something beautiful forming out of something so disgusting; remind you of anything? The same shade of green as well."

Salmryn was indeed his gem; a creature he never thought he could love so much.

After a moment, little boots hit the ground and slushed toward him.

He looked down to see another pair of wide lavender eyes looking up at him, little mouth in a mischievous smirk as he held his arms behind his brown wool cloak.

Drizzt slowly crouched down, meeting his son's gaze with his own smile.

"You have something, don't you?" Drizzt asked in a knowing, yet mirthful tone.

The little water genasi smiled wider and shifted on his feet.

"Yeah," he said after a pause that threatened to turn into giggles.

Drizzt cocked his head and gave his son a falsely stern look.

"Salmryn," he said, holding back a laugh, "what do you have?"

One hand emerged from the cape, opening to reveal a hard black body as big as his webbed hand with spiny legs and long antennas. He caught a tundra weevil, a common and harmless insect that made the perfect find for a little boy. The weevil's spindly legs explored the uneven surface of Salmryn's hand, causing Salmryn to shift his little hand to hold the large insect.

"A big bug, daddy," Salmryn said proudly, a happy glint in his lavender eyes.

"Oh that's a very big bug," Drizzt said, taking a few more looks over his shoulder and bending to one knee. "Where did you find it?"

"In the snow," Salmryn replied, one of his scaled fingers gently stroking the back of the weevil's shell.

"These bugs dig through the snow," Drizzt said, pointing to the weevil's small front pincers. "They find little bugs that are too small for us to see and they eat them."

"They eat them?" Salmryn asked, his mouth dropping in innocent shock. "Like bewies?"

"Yes, like berries," Drizzt said with a laugh. "They eat to fuel themselves, just like we do. And this little guy should be back in the snow so he can eat some more."

Salmryn closed his hands over the weevil a little more so the only visible parts were its exploring antennae, his face in a pout.

"I found it," Salmryn said.

"Yes you did," Drizzt replied, gently putting his hands on Salmryn's. "But it needs to go home now. You wouldn't want to be picked up and taken to its snowbank would you?"

"No," Salmryn replied reluctantly, nodding in understanding but shifting his feet in discomfort.

"You know what you need to do now?" Drizzt asked with a gently stern look.

Salmryn nodded, turning around and lowering the insect back into the snowbank. It gained its footing for a second before skittering back into the snow.

"Bye, bye, bug," Salmryn said, waving at the snowbank with a smile.

"Bye, bye," Drizzt said to the snowbank, waving as his son did before tousling Salmryn's wet green hair.

"Bug go home," Salmryn said, looking up at him; his eyes suddenly widening in horror. "Daddy!" he screamed, pointing at Drizzt.

The sudden yell put him on guard and his reflexes on enough edge to move forward as pain exploded through his right leg. Twinkle and Icingdeath were in hand as he spun backward and twisted the spear out of his leg muscle in time to stick Icingdeath into the throat of the orc who tried to spear him in the back.

The orc's warty face bore a look of surprise, likely caught off guard by the child's yell which threw his spear out of alignment of a kill move he had arranged after popping up from a snow camouflage blanket.

Drizzt had a second to realize the trap before the orc's second companion charged at him with a sword which he put out of the way easily.

"Sammy run!" Drizzt screamed, slicing at the orc who dodged one blade but took the other deep in the shoulder.

The ranger glanced at his son's horrified gaze, the boy stunned for a second before little legs sped off toward the Hall…with about five more orcs running behind him.

"Godsdamnit!" Drizzt grunted, slicing the orc in the throat and stomach before running toward the horde going after his son.

His leg ached as he felt the thick river of his own life essence gushing from the back of his thigh. The ache disappeared and the heavy flow of blood meant nothing. All he saw was his son running as five orcs wielding swords and spears with pure murder in their eyes ran after him.

Sammy's tear-streaked face and the sound of his sobbing breaths only made the Hunter madder.

One orc got one far swipe in at the boy before his head flew from his body. The other orcs growled at the Hunter now standing before them, though Drizzt could see fear in their eyes as he plowed into their line, swords hacking at every piece of orc flesh in his vicinity.

The orcs swarmed around him, two more sneaking from behind rocks making it a total of seven attacking him. Drizzt was a creature of instinct now, not caring how many blades he had to move aside and ignoring every club his or sword tip real or imagined. The Hunter was now a fierce creature protecting his young, hacking and lunging at anything that tried to break the barrier between him and the running water genasi.

Within a few moments, one orc practically exploded with the force of two scimitars hitting its chest and throat, another managed to lunge a spear before Twinkle plunged into its heart and laid it dead on the snow. Drizzt did see the point of one orc's sword disappear into his own shoulder before the creature's sword arm gushed blood thanks to Icingdeath. He gave little thought to slicing at another, who parried Twinkle with a spear before Icingdeath made a shallow cut across its midsection.

Drizzt glanced back, seeing Sammy a few feet away from the Hall as the dwarf guards rushed toward him; his lavender eyes rimmed with red as his face was a wash in tears.

The distraction earned Drizzt another searing pain through his already injured leg. He looked down and saw the tip of a longsword sticking out from the other side of his thigh, the quick flow of blood indicated a vein had been clipped and fortunately not an artery. He kicked at his assailant with his other leg, dislodging the sword as he gave the orc a low double thrust that sent it onto the snow.

One swinging back cut the throat of another, an easy hit but Drizzt could feel his adrenaline crashing. He thrust at the last orc in desperation, a clumsy move that got him a spear through the shoulder. He kicked up the spear, sending it in the air before kicking it again and watching as it shot through the orc's eye and out the other side of its head.

Drizzt landed on his uninjured leg at first, though his balance gave out and sent him on his knees in the snow. Blood soaked his trousers and leg bracers as he felt his life essence rapidly pouring out.

He looked to the Hall to see Stumpet Rakingclaw running to his side, laying hands on his wounded leg and saying a prayer. A warm glow spread through her hands into his body, stemming the flow of blood and making the ache stop.

A wave of lightheadedness fell over him as he collapsed on his side, staying conscious yet not entirely alert. He did hear a few patters in the snow as a scaly little hand rested on his forehead.

"Please get better, daddy," Salmryn said, his voice one big sob as he whimpered with tears.

Drizzt looked up at his son and smiled, the sight of his tear washed face and trembling lower lip tearing at his heart.

"Daddy will get better, Salm," he said weakly, "you have my word."

-----------

In a previous life it was a rocky crevice in one of the lower levels of the Hall carved out by thousands of years of water droplets and falling stones. After a few shape stone and create water spells by Stumpet and Cordio Muffinhead over a period of two days, it made the perfect play pen for a child water kin.

It was Salmryn's perfect hidey-hole; a mini-lake four feet deep and seven feet wide with a few shallow crevices resembling caves he could easily crawl up in and nap while still easily viewed by his father, mama Catti-brie, or any other adult watching him.

Occasionally passing dwarves or visitors would toss in a bronze piece or a particularly shiny stone or button, which Salmryn would collect and bury it in the clean sand that had been put at the bottom of his lake. The dwarves called it "appeasements to the little sea monster," a label usually followed by a hearty chuckle.

Salmryn turned a large wooden button flecked with gold over in his hand, watching how the gold glittered in the water against the light globes that hung over the pool. His bare legs were stretched out into the sand as his back still rested against the curves of one shallow cave.

Nearly half an hour before he practically jumped fully clothed into his lake, wanting a place to hide at last from the mean creatures chasing him and the sight of daddy covered in blood using his swords to cut the creatures apart.

Daddy made the bad creatures die, but daddy was lying in the snow afterward; his clothing torn and red cuts in his black skin gushing blood.

It was all too terrible to think on and he wanted to be far away from it. Cordio managed to grab him before he jumped into the pool, at least talking him into stripping down to his undershorts before going in. Since then he was left alone, at first wrapping himself in his arms and crying though soon he was digging through his treasure; tears gone though face still somber.

The bad images were fading, yet daddy was still hurt; he looked back to see dwarves carrying him into the Hall before Cordio pushed him along. The sight of his father lifting his head briefly and looking at him with a weak smile was the last image that floated through his brain.

A shift in the water and the sight of a gold coin plunging down broke his painful recollections. Salmryn reached up and caught the coin, looking up to see Catti-brie's auburn hair dangling over the water as she looked at him with a warm smile and motioned with a finger for him to come to her.

Salmryn was on his webbed feet in a moment as he swam upward like a frog in a pond. His hands clasped the smooth rock encircling the pool as his lungs adjusted from the heaviness of water to the lightness of air.

Catti-brie lay on her stomach, propping herself up with her elbows to give herself the perfect view of the boy she considered her son. She did not bare him, but she adored him; caring for him, laying with him, and sometimes just talking with him in his own four-year-old language.

"Is daddy better, mommy?" Salmryn asked shyly, almost afraid of what answer he would receive.

"I think I will let daddy answer that for you, little one," Catti-brie said, her smile widening. "Go to his room, he's sittin' up and he really wants to tell ya how much better he's feelin'"

His glum face broke into a beam of light. He leapt out of the pool and started running, his scaled feet keeping a firm grip on the wet stone.

Catti-brie stayed a foot behind him as he sped up the stone stairs and raced through the Hall, passing a few dwarves who moved out of his way with a few remarks of "there goes the little one," or "dang kids."

Salmryn raced through the corridors until he reached his parents' room, pushing the door open and stopping in his tracks.

Drizzt was sitting in a plush green chair next to his bed wearing his light cotton bed clothes and a happy smile the moment Salmryn ran into the room. His injured leg was propped up on a chair cushion, though covered only in his black cotton breeches and not a bandage. His energy was hardly at full as his leg and shoulder still ached, though Stumpet's spells and potions brought him out of the much worse condition he was in earlier.

All he had to contend with now was comforting his boy after those few minutes of terror.

"Are you ok, daddy?" Salmryn asked, staying still he eyed his father with fearful wariness.

The fear and apprehension struck Drizzt like as he recalled his fighting, his passionate hacking into orc flesh as his own blood was being spilt; four-year-olds should not see such things as he saw that day. His son should not have been exposed to all that, a moment of terror for which he felt responsible.

He should have known better than to take Salmryb on patrol with him as the status of the orcs was so uncertain.

Drizzt took a deep breath to keep himself from weeping as he lowered the collar of his shirt, revealing a red scrape where a sword gash had once been.

"Still a bit sore, but I am doing excellent," he said as cheerily as he could. "Stumpet did a great job healing me, but she said I need to rest for a day before I'm completely back to normal."

Salmryn stayed still, staring at his father as his eyes welled with tears. Drizzt leaned forward and put out his arms, which were quickly filled with a little boy who threw his arms around his dad.

Drizzt locked his son in a tight embrace, running a hand over his wet hair as Salmryn buried his face in his shoulder and sobbed. A tear streaked from his own eye as he clutched his boy; his body unmarred but his emotions destroyed.

"It's ok, Salm," he whispered over and over again in Salmryn's ear, occasionally mingled with "I'm so sorry."

"I still have my daddy," Salmryn whispered back through a sob.

He looked up briefly to see Catti-brie's unamused scowl from across the room, though his son's innocent words pierced his heart.

They all were safe now, though, he thought, gently pulling his son to face him and seeing a weak smile.


	4. Part 4: 1389

**Legend of the Phoenix Brothers**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

**Part 4**

**20 of Kythorn, 1389 The Year of the Snow Beast**

**Calimport**

"So tell me, man to man, how does one bed a mermaid," the earth-kin said, taking another of many swigs from his mug of dwarven ale.

Salmryn chortled so hard his hand fell from the neck of his yarting and slapped his thigh.

"Seriously, man, they have tails, no legs to sneak between," the earth genasi who called himself Akaro said with his own laugh, realizing how off kilter his question was though basking in the moment. "I don't know do they have a hole in their fin or something. Or do they just squeeze their eggs off and you have to spill yourself over them. I guess that could be romantic."

Salmryn laughed a bit harder, though recovered his wits enough to reach to the low table and grab his small glass of jasmine wine.

"Not that I'm going by experience, unfortunately, but I do believe they have a hole in the rear section if their lower fin covered by smaller fins," Salmryn said, taking a sip of the potent liquor. "Though you try anything they will use that lower fin to snap your head off. I've seen it."

"Nah not like I'd dunk my stony arse in the water and try to ravish a mermaid," Akaro said, tightening a string on his double-headed drum. "I think I'd drown before getting my pants off."

"I've seen that tried too," Salkmryn said, turning another peg on the neck of his instrument and strumming the string until it was the right tune.

Akaro gave a wicked laugh in response as he tapped a random rhythm on the top of his drum.

A wave of bluish smoke from the gold hookah being used by the adjacent patrons wafted over their spot of lush carpet; a vanilla perfumed weed being smoked by two robed men Salmryn overheard discussing spellcraft. He briefly looked over his shoulder to see the gyrating, bare stomach of a lithe dancer, a belt of coins hanging around her shapely hips as a gold lame brassiere left little to the imagination.

It was a typical night at the Golden Moon, a casual tavern Salmryn decided to make his perch for his night in Calimport. He had gone days as a simple deck hand aboard the _Langolia_ hauling crates like any other sailor, though on nights at port; when all his fellows were blowing their commissions on drink and whores, Salmryn sated his overwhelming curiosity and wanderlust for at least a few hours.

Calimport intrigued him to no end; a city of great beauty plastered onto great greed and great intrigue. He could walk through the streets or sit in the taverns and receive a hundred stares at his green hair, scaled skin, and slitted pupils, though no one dared say a word and would treat him like any other passer-by. He was likely being whispered about behind his back, though that almost flattered him

It was the same case in this outpost of humanity called the Golden Moon, though here he could blend in a little more.

Whether in Waterdeep, Baldur's Gate, Calimport, or any other city, he would take his yarting, a gift from a one-time paramour in Silverymoon, and pick a corner to strum. Sometimes he would spend the night alone with his instrument and his glass of whatever spirit he was having that night, though more often he would make at least one friend for the night, sometimes many. Often he would find other musicians to play whatever some came to mind.

Tonight was an ideal. Just an hour in his corner and his strumming was accompanied by a swiftly played drum capable of many different percussive sounds thanks to an able player.

The fact the drummer was a fellow elemental kin was an added bonus. Akaro's brown skin was more the color of sandstone than the usual Calishite tan. His pitch black eyes, like two black pearls, gave his heritage away as did the braided goatee the color of red clay. A few stony veins were obvious across his bald head and his hands were a bit too large for the average human.

Conversation came after twenty minutes of what musicians referred to as "jamming" before the two even talked to each other.

"So where's these friends you keep telling me about," Salmryn said.

"Well I assume Khalid is fashionably late as always," Akaro replied. "I swear by Sune's tits he'd be late for his own hanging. As for Ranhar…"

"He skipped out of the city with the Marshani Guild's daggers a mile away from his back," a grim voice said.

Salmryn looked up to see a human around his age hastily tying the strings on the collar of his white tunic embroidered with black and blue designs. His mid-length black hair was wavy with the heat as a healthy glean of sweat formed on his neck and face with a few beads on his pointed goatee. He looked like he ran over, though his slightly pudgy build likely contributed a few more heaving breaths than just the rush.

"Khal-pash, nice of you to join us," Akaro said in an unamused tone. "When did this little development happen?"

"Oh like an hour ago," the man Salmryn assumed was Khalid said through practically clenched teeth. "I tried to get in touch with the stupid bastard all morning only to hear through indirect sources the son of a bitch skipped out on a huge debt and disappeared. He knows we were performing tonight and chose tonight to piss off the universe."

"Khal-pash, it's called breathing," Akaro said, rolling his eyes or at least looked to be rolling his eyes. "Have a seat, meet my new friend."

Khalid took a few deep breaths and calmed, reaching a hand to Salmryn.

"Khalid Marhala," he said, pulling his voice from frantic to sophisticated in a moment, "well met."

"Sam Cooper," Salmryn replied.

"My buddy is a merchant sailor here for a good time," Akaro said.

Khalid gave Salmryn a look over with a pair of black eyes that instantly became ice the second they fell on him. The human clearly noted his green hair and scales on blue-black skin, though they stopped on the tunic Salmryn made himself from a sewing kit and an empty grain sack he found on board one of the previous ships he worked on.

"Nice shirt," Khalid said in bored curiosity, his mood clearly lightened by a hair's width. "New sailor fashion or is this what all the Ilmatherian masochists and wearing this year?"

Salmryn chuckled; he liked this guy already. Khalid adjusted his collar before stopping and facing Salmryn again.

"Of course if you are a follower of the Crying God, no offense meant," Khalid said, his tone diplomatically serious in a second.

It was the ultimate indicator of Calishite slickness, Salmryn thought; the ability to pull oneself together in an instant and exude an air of condescending confidence. He loved Calimport though new not to trust Calishites as far as he could throw them. Odds were good he was keeping up his act straight down to his stage name, but then Salmryn was guilty of that particular ruse as well.

"None taken and I'm not," Salmryn replied, reaching for his glass and sniffing the pungent contents. "This thing is actually very comfortable."

"I'll take your word for it," Khalid said with a half smirk, kneeling on the carpet, pulling a black leather bag from his back, and placing it on the small table. He opened the bag and pulled out a finely made fiddle; the body was highly polished palm inlaid with lines of black oak. It was an instrument that must have cost a fortune, or was acquired through more unique means.

Khalid cradled the instrument between his shoulder and chin and dragged the bow across in a starting tune.

"Could you give me a G," he asked Salmryn, pointing the bow at Salmryn's yarting. Salmryn nodded, playing a G-chord as Khalid tuned his fiddle.

"Many thanks," Khalid said, tuning the rest of his strings with a look of serious focus. He finished his tuning with a final drag of the bow in a high note as he placed his cold gaze back on Salmryn. "Do you know 'Harharaline?'" he asked.

"Not exactly," Salmryn replied.

"You'll just have to play along," Khalid said. "The yarting part is accompaniment at best; basic rhythm, but feel free to improvise."

"I suppose?" Salmryn said, cocking a green eyebrow in confusion.

"Oh, forgot to mention that part," Akaro said. "We are kind of the main performers here tonight."

Salmryn casually glanced around the room and saw a man in brown robes clinging to the back wall and watching their group with an impatient glare.

"That would be the proprietor," Akaro said.

Khalid rolled his eyes and suppressed a growl. Salmryn smiled and looked into his black eyes.

"What's the beginning chord," he said, dragging his abalone pick over the strings.

----------

A mass of claps and shouts went up after the trio of young musicians played their last note.

Salmryn looked out at the small audience and basked in the applause even if it was done with one hand holding a glass or a pipe. Regardless, their attention belonged to him and his two new bandmates. This was the most applause he had ever gotten in any port of call.

Khalid flashed him a grin, his black hair wild from all the head swaying he did in rhythm with his rapid, sometimes impossible strumming. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked out at the crowd. Akaro raised a fist and shouted along like a warrior who had just tasted victory.

A few seconds later, the tavern patrons returned to their scheming as if the musicians were never there.

Akaro lowered his drum and went to the bar to order another ale.

"I owe you a lot of drinks, friend," Khalid said. "You're my hero."

"You're not the first man who's told me that." Salmryn said with a snicker, holding his left thumb to his left forefinger to stem a tiny cut he got from bending the chords a bit too much.

"Though I'm probably the only one who meant it," Khalid replied without missing a beat.

Khalid walked up to the bar and ordered two glasses of sweet wine, which were on the bar a second later. Khalid pushed one into Salmryn's hand and took his own long swig.

"To spoils, my friends," Akaro said, walking up to them and clinking his ale glass against each of the others before walking off in clear pursuit of the belly dancer making her rounds through the tavern.

"Is this a typical night for you lot," Salmryn said, leaning against the bar.

"The venue changes but it's mostly the same," Khalid said, taking a long sip and putting his glass on the bar and leaning his fiddle on the floor against the bar. "Save for the missing presence of our usual third member, though in my personal opinion he has nothing on you. That means a lot coming from me."

"Well thanks," Salmryn said. "Unfortunately for you two I'm shipping off tomorrow morning."

"You're in a better position than all of us," Khalid said with a grimace, pulling a small clay pipe from his belt and taking a pinch of pipeweed from a small bag.

Salmryn clearly heard the small twinge of pain in his voice. Khalid pulled out a tindertwig, struck it against the sole of his high black boot and lit his pipe with a few puffs.

"Our little band was destined to collapse before tonight," Khalid said with a sigh as a small cloud of smoke trailed from his lips. "Akaro is leaving for Waterdeep in a tenday. Our barbaric little earth genasi so impressed several old bards with his drum skills he has earned a place on the roster at New Olamn."

"That's fantastic," Salmryn said. "Excellent for him, though clearly a loss for this group."

"He takes his craft with the utmost seriousness," Khalid said with the hint of a smile. "His drum is his best friend, his wife almost. Those two are never separated."

"What about you," Salmryn asked, putting his yarting on a stool. "How serious is the craft for you."

Khalid chuckled, though Salmryn saw another hint of that sting.

"It's something that keeps me sane," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "A hobby, a side interest, it's all I have time for."

"A widow of business as they say?" Salmryn asked, leaning against the bar.

Khalid gave a smirk though looked a bit uncomfortable at the mention of his work; giving Salmryn the impression he was dealing with a typical Calishite businessman who didn't want to discuss his intrigues.

"Let's just say it's my life, for boon or bane," Khalid replied.

Salmryn nodded and toasted his glass.

"What about you," Khalid said before taking a draw on his pipe. "Will you be currying bardic favor alongside Akaro?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Salmryn said. "If you're a widow of business, I'm a whore for adventure. As soon as I get back into Waterdeep, I'm joining a trade company in Skullport."

"Skullport is such a cluster of vileness it's fabulous in its own way," Khalid replied.

Salmryn chuckled, draining his glass and putting it back on the bar. He wanted to stay here for at least a few more hours, talking with Khalid and Akaro, though he could tell by a small window leading out to the street the moon was near its set.

"We ship out in less than five hours and I need sleep," Salmryn said, putting his arm out to Khalid. "Thanks for a great time."

Khalid clasped his arm and gave a sad smile.

"Fair winds to you, mate," Khalid said. "Just remember never look a female drow in the eye and never look at an illithid at all, trust me on this."

Salmryn laughed and nodded, before pulling back, grabbing his yarting, and walking from the bar. He gave a few brief parting words to Akaro, who gave him a huge muddy hug, and walked from the tavern.


	5. Part 5: 1391

**Legend of the Phoenix Brothers**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

**Part 5**

**9 of Marpenoth, 1391 DR the Year of the Dancing Ghost**

**Waterdeep**

"Khallis Raen," Arles Malkor said, meeting the gaze of the young man walking down the path.

The student stopped in his tracks, recovering his slouching posture and removing the thumb from the strap if his brown, fringed backpack in one second to face the elder instructor in front of him.

Malkor looked over his half-moon spectacles at the young man's handsome, yet slightly pudgy face adorned by a pointed goatee and a pointed moustache to accompany it. His thick, raven black hair was impeccably combed into a slight curl at the base of his neck with one lock continuously catching on a gold hoop earring in his left ear.

His dark eyes danced with merriment, yet Malkor sensed vicious streak in this one, maybe if just by instinct. Just twenty-one, he held his posture firm yet stiff though the casual hook of a thumb on his belt told his age.

Khallis gave a slight bow to the old bard, one of the school's elders and tried to hide his slight nervousness. He knew how to handle himself in the presence of dignitaries, though this was a new arena in which he had not completely settled.

"I remembered a Khallis Raen from his audition over the summer," he said, removing his spectacles and wiping them off on his black robe. "I also remember a hymn called 'Al Anondeal,' an ancient dirge always sung in an elven chorus. I also recall hearing this same hymn played on the fiddle at a tempo more fitting of a Calishite gambling den than an Evereskan funeral."

Khallis smiled and nodded, though could not hold his nervous shifting at what the old man would say next. He had kept perfect calm in the face of men who would cut his throat on one hint of fear, though he could not keep himself perfectly poised in front of a frail old man. The feeling was almost liberating.

"And I recall being sad when it ended as it sent naught but chills down my spine," Malkor said with a creeping smile.

Khallis' nervous smile turned into a grin quicker than he had wanted.

"Many thanks, sir," he said with another bow, trying to keep his voice at an even tone.

"Welcome to New Olamn, Khallis," Malkor said, putting his spectacles back on. "I am sure we can expect great things from you."

Khallis managed one nod before the old bard was shuffling back down the path. He gave a small sigh of relief and allowed himself a smile.

It had been his first day in New Olamn and he had already earned the compliments of an elder in addition to the praise he had received from his other instructors and students. The sun was setting low on his first day and hopefully more would be like this one.

Khallis continued down the walk with a more determined stride, propelled by both his favorable encounter and another piece of business at hand.

At the moment, he relaxed his gait and strode over the cobblestone path while taking a sweeping look at the scene in front of him; the mass of young men and women casually walked along the tree-lined, cobblestone paths carrying their instruments or reclining in the grass.

Khallis breathed in the warm, early autumn wind as the sun made its final descent behind the horizon and left behind a sky of purple clouds. The air was fresh with early evening and took the aroma of grass and the willow leaves swaying in the light breeze a few feet from him.

A half-orc played a flute in the grass as a lady in brown robes strummed a lute next to him. A halfling walked down the way with a pristine-looking dwarf with a braided blond beard and impeccable green tunic, the two looking as if they were debating some artistic point Khallis could not hear, though both still wore smiles.

He let out one breath in a long, lingering sigh. It was only peace around him now; no need to be watching his back or keeping a sword ready. No smell of rotting flesh, so sight of beggars or emaciated children.

The perfume to the air was different; no floating jasmine or waves of sand over the street. That would be the only thing about Calimport he would miss, though the rest he could use to be away from a while.

"Welcome home," he whispered to himself.

---------------

_Salm,_

_I hope this letter reaches you on your way to class. As overly sentimental as it sounds, just imagine that I am seeing you off with a pat on the back. Always know I am very proud of your accomplishments and wish you all the best in this new endeavor_. _Bard craft is indeed a noble calling and may you find pleasure in your craft._

_I have enclosed a small gift from Uncle Regis. May this be a good luck charm for you in your performances. I wish the best for you always. Love always. _

_Dad._

Salmryn pried his eyes away from his father's flowing handwriting with a sigh. He let his body sink further in his favorite plush couch in the common hall, his bare ankles resting on one arm as his green hair cascaded down the opposite side.

He imagined his father a hundred miles away sitting in a patch of grass with his favorite ink well, writing the letter shortly after waking from Reverie; a sad smile on his face and a tear in his eye as he sealed the parchment.

Salmryn gave a small groan to keep tears out of his own eyes.

This is the same man who rolled his eyes when you told him you were coming here, he thought to himself.

It was an issue that still stung on a small level. He understood the reaction; to his father institutionalized learning meant the mass creation murderers and black magicians. Salmryn expected nothing less when he told his father he was accepted; that twitch in his smile and slight roll of his eyes told more than his pleasant "That is wonderful Salm."

Dad would rather he found a mentor or taught himself, he knew that when he told him; regardless, his own feeling was the same.

Salmryn pulled himself from his thoughts, feeling the parchment and finding the small pouch at the bottom.

He took a cursory look around the wide, circular hall to make sure no one was watching him. Instead students walked through the room of gray and purple mosaic stones with no interest in his affairs, one sat on the lip of the small fountain in the center of the room playing her lute, and another was in the plush, red couch across the room napping.

Salmryn reached in the pouch and let the piece of knucklehead bone settle in his palm. It was one of Regis' fabulous carvings; a bone carved in the shape of an ornate yarting with a silver wire twisted in a top hole to use as a charm.

He looked down at it and smiled, his mind going over all the beads he could use to match the charm on a necklace. His combinations of beads, charms, and leather cord had earned him a handsome profit since he learned the art of silversmithing and jewelry making from an old elven craftsman in Silverymoon.

Rarely did Salmryn keep his creations for himself, though the combination of shell slices, blue sea glass, and blue pearls accented by four rare green stones and a silver seahorse charm was one that almost never left his neck. It was his self portrait in bead form. The green stones were salmryns, the Underdark gem he was named for. The seahorse charm was a little more personal.

Whatever he made with this trinket would also fall into that category.

"It's a key to the chastity belt of a dragon princess," a familiar voice said over his shoulder.

"A real horny one," Salmryn said, looking up and meeting a pair of pure black eyes.

Akaro Halari leaned on the top of Salmryn's chair looking down at the carving in the water genasi's hand.

"A gift from my uncle," Salmryn said, holding the carving out with pride. "He carved it himself."

"Damn," Akaro said, leaning down and rubbing a stony finger over the details. "Your uncle's no hobbyist."

"Not at all," Salmryn replied with a smile.

Regis hugged him and left him with warm words when Salmryn last left Mithral Hall. For a moment he became a bit homesick, missing his frank, yet soothing talks with his grandfather over several mugs of ale. He already missed hunting and bawdy laughter with his mother, her auburn hair now with many white streaks though her blue eyes still perpetually smiling. He missed sitting in the grass with Wulfgar, his strong face lined with age and wisdom, and Regis debating how Salmryn should approach a potential patron.

All he needed to do was recall the sad, almost helpless look in his father's eyes when he took his leave. He had left his father many times, yet he seemed to look more and more dejected every time. But then life had not been easy on him as of late.

Salmryn placed the charm in a mithril neckpurse and looked up at Akaro.

"You studying or drinking tonight," Salmryn asked, pushing aside the painful recollection.

"Studying over copious amounts of liquor," Akaro replied with a sigh. "I'm going to fucking need it."

"What if I told you I needed a study partner tonight for Rythmic Theory?" Salmryn asked with a smirk.

"I would tell you this," Akaro replied, giving him an obscene gesture.

In that same hand, Salmryn saw the opened envelope he clutched in his large hand as his finger went up. With a quick, yet careful glance, he was only able to see "To: Master Halari" written on the envelope. He obviously got his mail late in the day too.

"My point exactly," Salmryn replied, "considering after Rhythmic Theory today I'm going to need ample amounts of liquor."

"I swear Master Korian was born without a dick, was told having a dick can give one a pleasurable existence, and mourns his missing dick constantly," Akaro said.

"You noticed?" Salmryn said rolling his eyes.

Akaro was great for his blunt, colorful commentary at any moment, appropriate or otherwise.

In his three months in Waterdeep, two as a local layabout and one as a serious student, Akaro had become somewhat of a best friend.

They first met in a tavern in Calimport where Salmryn was recruited for his yarting skills for a last minute performance. Salmryn had never heard the song and his part was pure improvisation, though the crowd of Calishite schemers gave them coin and applause.

Akaro, a master drummer and one of the rare bards from the race of earth genasi, would go to New Olamn a tenday after that performance. The head of Ranhar Morsevo, the musician Salmryn replaced that night, was later found on the outskirts of town in an alley. As for Khalid Marhala, the pudgy fiddler with whom he shared a drink after the performance, Akaro said he was still in Calimport managing the family business… whatever that was.

Salmryn reunited with Akaro by pure accident just three months earlier, nearly stabbing him with his sword on the docks. The huge earth kin looked like an orc in the low light of the docks and Salmryn was hunting a certain orc who strangled a woman and dumped her body in the ocean.

At the time he was helping a group of sea elves in capturing the murderer. After spending nearly a year in T'Quession prior to his arrival in Waterdeep, he knew the guard members and felt it only natural to help them when seeing them on the docks. They never inquired about the new gold bracelet he wore on his wrist and Salmryn didn't have to tell them about his friends in the Dark Daggers who gave it to him by an abandoned dock house for a few jobs well done.

Salmryn almost stabbed Akaro, though was stopped by having the limp body of the orc in question waved in his face. Akaro would later collect a small bounty for the orc, his "school job" to help pay tuition.

They recognized each other immediately and a few wet and bloody hugs later the rest was history.

"I hope you're not going to hog all the liquor in Waterdeep for yourself," Salmryn said.

"I'll be at Silavene's at some point, can't say when, just save me a seat," Akaro replied with a sigh. It was written all over his face; he had either received some unpleasant news or had business to take care of and was not looking forward to it at all. "And bring your pet elf; I want to see what the little duke's like gets when he's piss drunk."

"He might actually be amusing," Salmryn replied rolling his eyes.

"The why do you spend time with him if you know he's a prick," Akaro said.

"Because he's a screamer," Salmryn replied with a bored sigh.

Akaro cringed before managing a smile and a wave before turning around and walking in the opposite direction.

Salmryn gave a wicked laugh, watching his friend disappear down the corridor. He was concerned, though his previous all-nighter got the better of him. He rested his head further on the chair arm and fell into a pleasant nap.

--------------

All of Selune's Tears were shining tonight.

Khallis leaned further against the oak tree on a sloping hill that made the best place to stop and pretend the world didn't exist. This was his hill, he thought with a smile as he took another long draw from his clay pipe.

A few students milled around on the paths, paying no attention to the one wooded hill a few hundred feet away from the main campus yard.

Khallis knew this would be his favorite spot, though this area was best suited for business at the moment than meditation.

No…this wasn't business, he thought to himself, it was indeed pleasure. It was meeting with an old friend. Old thought processes would indeed die hard.

He looked down the hill to see lumbering form of business was walking up to him. His double-headed drum was slung over his shoulders as if it grew there while his brown leather vest was a bit more fashionable than the torn tunics he was used to seeing him wearing.

Akaro Halari was a sight for sore eyes, the one form of familiarity Khallis had since coming to Waterdeep. Once upon a time they were a pair of ruffians who made their niche in Calimport's gambling house and tavern scene; that was before Akaro came to Waterdeep and Khallis was left alone to his ennui.

Akaro climbed the hill, his face blacked out by the low light at first, though Khallis gradually saw a tired and almost aggravated expression.

"Well met, Akaro," Khallis said with a creeping grin. "I see you got my note."

Akaro nodded. The earth genasi's sour expression stung Khallis, though he knew to anticipate this reaction.

"It's funny," Akaro said walking up to him, "I hear a little rumor that you were in Waterdeep and I thought nothing of it. Another trade mission, I think. Then I start hearing these rumors that someone who looks a hell of a lot like you who plays the same fiddle and wields the same little silver tongue is a student on campus. Then I get your little note and know for sure."

"I thought I'd keep it a little surprise," Khallis said.

The two looked at each other for an uncomfortable moment. Akaro gave a stiff smile and chuckled.

"We're friends right?" Akaro said.

"I hope so," Khallis replied, taking another draw. He knew exactly where this was going.

"Alright, what happened," the genasi said with a groan, his face coming directly into Khallis. "You go from one of Calimport's slickest illegitimate businessmen to a mere fiddle strummer with the rest of us child lowlifes. Typically there is a story behind this that usually involves a trail of dead bodies, a cache of stolen coin, or, or in addition to, a horde of mercenaries and assassins waiting to cut you down at any moment with papa-hal likely following close behind."

"I assure you it was not as dramatic at that," Khallis said, blowing a stream to the opposite side of Akaro. "I just needed a change of scenery."

Akaro gave an evil laugh.

"Change of scenery," the genasi said with an incredulous laugh. "No offense, but horse shit. You remember what happened to our friend Ranhar right?"

"We're friends right?" Khallis asked, not wanting to hear any more on an already painful subject.

"Depends," Akaro replied. "Am I going to wake up in the middle of the night with your father holding a dagger to my throat?"

"Like I said, it was hardly that dramatic," Khallis replied, holding up a hand in peace. He paused, gauging his friend's increasingly unsettled stance. Akaro was the only real friend he had, though the level of distrust was inevitable. "I needed a break, some time to pursue projects that didn't involve me potentially getting my throat cut. Not because I'm running out on anything and not because I pissed someone off, but because if I stayed I would have…"

"Turned into your father?" Akaro asked, his gait relaxing as he seemed to understand the circumstances though he was still on edge.

"I killed someone," Khallis said with a stiff laugh.

"You've killed a lot of people," Akaro replied.

"I killed an old servant of a man who aided us yet sold magic weapons to the Banalari Guild," Khallis continued, lowering his voice and subtly looking around to make sure no one else was listening in. "I was trying to get at least one straight answer out of this high-assed, heavily bejeweled noble and his damn footman kept squawking over my shoulder; 'My lord is a decent man, how dare you hoodlums accuse him of treachery, blah.' I dealt with this shit for about half an hour and just wanted him to shut up. So I just turned around and shoved my sword through his gut just to shut him the hells up"

Khallis paused; telling the story was a bit too much for him. He knew he had to maintain his usual façade, but that was the point; he shouldn't have to here.

Akaro whistled, watching his friend's typically casual demeanor stiffen. He was actually breaking down here; a display that was clearly not an act. He actually felt sorry for the guy.

"So hence the extended vacation," he said. "What does papa-hal think of this little break."

"It was his idea," Khallis said, admitting it out loud made him feel sicker. "'Get the Hells out of here,' he said, 'you stay to long this place will kill you. Do something with your damn life; you're too young and have too many skills to be a fat bookkeeper.'"

"So who's minding the store now?" Akaro asked, seeing the pain etched in his friend's face.

Khallis was a proud man doing a job at sixteen that would have made most people shiver at any age. Burn-out by the age of twenty-one was only inevitable; though he didn't quite buy that Khallis' notoriously cold father would let him go to bard school without considerable recompense. There was likely more to this, though Akaro heard enough to feel a bit safer.

"A few idiot number crunchers are doing the books, though papa insists he can manage his own affairs," Khallis said, the look on his face suggesting he was not convinced.

"And how long has he been in the business," Akaro said. "What forty years? Khal-pash, other cut-throats model themselves after your father, I think he can take care of himself."

"I never doubted that," Khallis said, taking a draw from his pipe, his muscles gradually relaxing.

"Look, I'm meeting some people for some hard liquor and I insist we stop it with the private clandestine meeting act and actually give you a proper welcoming party," Akaro said, grabbing Khallis by the shoulder and pulling him down the hill."

Khallis managed a smile, pushing past his fear and trepidation.

"By the way," Khallis said walking down the hill and pointing the stem of his pipe toward himself. "As long as I'm here, it's Khallis Raen."

"Khallis Raen?" Akaro asked sarcastically. "That has to be one of your lamest aliases."

"It's my given name, you ass," Khallis said with a stiff smile.

"Like I said," Akaro replied, dragging him in the direction of the nearest festhall to campus.


	6. Part 6: 1391

**Legend of the Phoenix Brothers**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

**Part 6**

**10 of Marpenoth, 1391 DR the Year of the Dancing Ghost**

**Waterdeep**

"I got you a small token of my affection," Halein said, pulling his wine-infused kiss away from Salmryn's lips.

Salmryn smiled sweetly, waiting for the sun elf to put his gaze down to his pocket before rolling his eyes.

He was getting these "tokens of affection" at least twice a tenday for the past three months; Halein blowing several thousand gold pieces from his near limitless coffers to purchase a pair of earrings, a necklace, or a fancy gold goblet for his latest boy toy.

Halein would forget ever buying the trinket by the next morning and would never question why his lover was not wearing it. These little objects of affection were typically appraised and sold for some real coin Salmryn could use. He rarely ever kept any of these gifts as most were gaudy baubles whose mere style rendered them cheap.

The elf produced a velvet box, wrapped with pink and gold ribbon, and gave it to Salmryn with a barely-sincere smile made little more sincere by the bottle of Everesken wine he consumed over the course of that night.

"Oh darling, you shouldn't have," Salmryn said sweetly, batting his green eyelashes like a modest maiden.

His slender fingers carefully pulled the ribbon and undid the bow. He looked at Halein, whose pointed features showed a polite, pseudo-loving smile that clearly communicated he expected some tail later.

Salmryn opened the box, revealing a thick silver chain adorned with sapphire and emerald charms in silver settings. It was something an elderly human woman with a lot of money and no style would appreciate; or a young elf with the same qualities.

"That is brilliant," Salmryn said, plastering on a smile and thinking of the best place he could hawk it.

"I saw it in a window and thought of you," Halein said, his speech slightly slurred as the wine was making itself known. "I know you have such a fondness for jewels."

Halein picked the necklace out of the box and lifted the ends to place it around Salmryn's neck. He then dropped one end, picking it up, only to trip forward as he was leaning towards his lover.

Salmryn merely embraced him, locking him in a passionate, lustful kiss. Halein forgot his previous mission and wrapped his arms around Salmryn, dropping the necklace on the dirt that surrounded the side of Silavene's festhall. As expected, Halein's hands were all over Salmryn's body, though his usually graceful touch was rough as his slender hands seemed to just paw everywhere instead of passionately grope.

Salmryn, who had a few glasses of wine, had no problems swinging Halein around and putting him against the stone wall as they continued to kiss. He casually looked past the wall to the pathway, noticing the various New Olamn students and other patrons merely walking up the main path for an evening drink.

The two were far against the wall on the other side of the building away from the path, yet within site of the path. A few students did look over and give a thumbs-up or an annoyed glare before going into Silavene's. He briefly looked at Halein's face and saw his gold eyes briefly trail over to the path.

"Are you not afraid of being discovered, lover?" Salmryn cooed in Halein's pointed ear, brushing aside a lock of mid-length blond hair. "What would everyone think of our love?"

What would everyone think of an arrogant gold elf getting back-ended by a drow-spawn, Salmryn thought with a hint of a smile. It was a factor that amused him to some level. To Halein, he was another blue-skinned, green-haired water kin; a truly unique addition to his vast collection of lovers. If only daddy and uncle on Evermeet knew he was rolling in bed with the blood of Ilythiir night after night, two proud sun elves who would see Salmryn's father once and not ask about any supposed "goodly reputation" before opening fire, and getting hacked apart soon after. He knew he shouldn't think the circumstances so humorous.

"I care not what the outside world thinks of us, darling," Halein said, his voice now noticeably slurred as his tone grew louder. "I would ravish you right here against this hard wall, these exquisite boots of mine in the dirt and the whole world could watch us."

Salmryn continued kissing him; his drunken ramblings sounding almost tempting though made even him a little uncomfortable. If only there was a compromise.

Salmryn looked around as his lips found every inch of Halein's face as the elf practically slobbered all over him. His eyes trailed to the path, then the back of the building closer to the grassy hillside; closer to the small stone shed he knew contained an assortment of tools and supplies.

It was a tempting thought; risky yet not obviously so and he already had experience with bedding lovers in bizarre circumstances.

He knew he should return to the festhall and see if Akaro had indeed arrived, though it was likely his business was complicated and odds were good his friend wouldn't make it to Silavene's that night. Even if he missed him in the large crowd of students on a night before the start of two rest days, he could wait at least a little while longer.

"Would you like to try something a bit…dangerous?" Salmryn whispered in Halein's ear.

------------

"So where are these friends I keep hearing about," Khallis said, leaning in Akaro's ear and speaking loudly over the music and singing that filled the festhall.

A patron that had been dancing a few feet from him before now crashed into him, his drunken dancing ended with a puddle of ale under his thin slippers. Khallis cheek slammed into the large, gold hoop in Akaro's left ear lobe, bringing a stinging scrape and a loud obscenity from Khallis and a loud, uncontrollable series of guffaws from the earth genasi.

"You are an insult to all dancers," Khallis yelled at the patron who crashed into him, who merely regained his step and continued along not paying Khallis any mind.

Khallis growled, looking over at Akaro, whose face was mud-red from laughter. He hated being ignored and he doubly hated when "friends" doubled over in laughter at his expense.

"To the Hells with you," Khallis grumbled, looking at Akaro and trying not to get angry over his massive grin. He lifted his wine glass from the high table and emptied what had been his seventh glass that night.

"Easy on the happy juice, Khal-pash," Akaro said, pushing Khallis' glass aside while sipping from his fourth mug of ale.

Akaro outweighed Khallis by at least a hundred pounds of bulky muscle and frame more akin to stone than bone. He could consume tankard after tankard of true dwarven ale and only get a little happy. Khallis, while a tad on the heavy side himself, was hardly a drinker. He typically avoided partaking in too much alcohol; though for some reason that night his glass always seemed in need of filling in the past two hours he had been here.

"As I was saying, where are these friends you keep telling me about," Khallis said, his tone becoming steadily more annoyed.

"Taking their sweet ass time," Akaro said with an air of annoyed finality, looking to the stage in the center of the room and getting a prime view up the low-cut dress of a female lute player doing a spinning dance. "One has a rather high maintenance lover he must tend to first, though he swore he would be around."

Akaro thought he saw said friend and said high-maintenance lover about half an hour ago as they were leaving the hall arm and arm, though he knew they had "business" to attend to.

"Akaro, this is my first night as a full resident of Waterdeep," Khallis said, his tone more biting and bearing more of a slur, "I would prefer company as opposed to just idle drinking with a man who is more here to go bird watching."

"The get your spyglass out and watch some birds with me, man," Akaro said, grabbing him by the shoulders and turning him in the direction of red-haired flute player in a sleeveless green dress whose ample bosom was pushed forward by a tight corset.

Khallis rolled his eyes, though suddenly made eye contact with the red head, who gave him a coy wink. He gave a half-hearted smile back while signaling to a passing server for more brandy.

He knew he shouldn't have kept drinking; drunkenness dulled one's ability to fight an attacker or see a coming threat…but that should have been of little concern to him now. He wasn't in Calimport, he wasn't on the "kill on sight" list of several thugs, pashas, and other "businessmen" he ate dinner with every night. He was in Waterdeep surrounded by either neutral strangers or potential new friends.

He hadn't seen Akaro in almost a year and he should have been enjoying his company. Instead he was drinking himself silly and looking over his shoulder every five seconds.

A simply clad male server put another glass of brandy in front if him before walking away with a nod. Khallis lifted the glass and tapped a gold ring against the rim, nodding with the lack of poisoned glow produced by the ring. Old habits died hard.

He lifted the glass and took a long, greedy sip.

"You know you've never been pleasant when you're drunk," Akaro said, giving him an irritated look and walking away to meet up with someone he had waved at a moment later.

He is right, Khallis thought with a grimace as he took another sip. While some men became comical after a few drinks and others became violent, Khallis knew he turned inward even more. His thoughts became more intense as his body became more relaxed; it was always a bad combination especially that night.

That night he was in a large festhall in Waterdeep relaxing and watching beautiful women with the man he considered his best friend…while his father was a thousand miles away possibly getting killed and he would receive the news in another few tendays of drinking and merrymaking.

Khallis set down his glass a little harder than he meant to, especially judging by the loud crack of glass and some of the startled looks he got from nearby patrons. He merely gave them a smile before they went back to their respective conversations. He kept his smile while feeling his legs move away from the table and actually move him through the crowd of dancers and revelers.

Maybe another night he would find a lovely lady as a dancing partner, he thought with a sad smile. He mentally went through the motions of approaching that stunning, raven-haired maiden talking with another beautiful, blonde lady across the crowd, though he merely walked past them without making any eye contact. He needed to get the Hells out of here and get some air before spending more of his evening miserable.

Khallis gave one more look back to see where Akaro had skipped off to, though gave up the pursuit the second he thought of it. He put his black gaze forward and shoved his way through the thick throng of merry patrons, prompting a few indignant grunts from some, laughs from others, and overall disinterest from everyone else.

Like a miraculous sign, Selune's tears were now visible through the large, open double doors. He pushed through harder and soon was in the open air he breathed in greedily. He needed to be away from this mass of humanity and the further he walked, nay stumbled, from the festhall the better.

He walked in the grass away from the main cobblestone path and was now in the center of the space between Silavene's, the Fair Winds Villa, and the main path that returned to New Olamn. A patch of grassy hill and a small, stone building, likely a utility shed, caught his eye as did the comforting darkness beside the festhall.

There's probably an assassin from Calimport waiting…oh shut the Hells up, he thought to himself, moving to the dark corner of the building where light from the oil lanterns did not reach. He leaned against the wall; the grassy hill and the small shed the only things in his vision, save for the lights of Waterdeep below him.

Khallis' back slid down the wall as he came to a sit on the dirt ground, though a sharp pain in his backside sent him back to his feet in a moment. He looked around, hand in the gold basket hilt of his sword as his breath became rapid. It took a few breaths of fresh air before he started feeling foolish, taking his hand from his sword and looking on the ground where he had sat earlier.

An imprint of a pair of trousers was in the dirt around a brilliant gold chain adorned with many large gems. His eyebrows rose as he bent down and picked up the chain. One of the silver settings was bent, an unfortunate reminder to Khallis that he could stand to lose some weight, though the rest of the necklace was in tact, if not a bit dirty.

He concentrated on the necklace in one hand while his other gestured and he whispered the simple incantation. While his sword and several items on his person glowed with magic, the only glow on this piece was the dim light from the path reflecting off the highly-polished gems. Khallis gave an amused smile as he casually pocketed the necklace, finding it almost unique a grand piece like this had no magic properties. He would have to get it properly appraised later.

Maybe the item was actually cursed, reading as mundane before unleashing the Hells on him. He smiled at the thought. This necklace would be his good luck charm; an extravagant piece of jewelry laying on the ground waiting for him…to sit on it.

Khallis gave a warming chuckle in spite of himself as he leaned against the wall and looked out at the lights of Waterdeep. Selune's tears were up high, the lights of Waterdeep were on the horizon, and the rolling, barely touched grass was below him. He took a deep breath of the fresh air, tinged with a hint of salt from low tide a mile or so away.

The sounds of merrymaking inside the festhall made his sullen mood a bit lighter; though a bizarre screeching noise coming from the hillside stole his attention for a moment.

He ignored the noise as soon as he heard it; probably a bird or a far off animal. Then the noise became a bit louder, like a wounded animal.

Khallis shrugged it off again, leaning against the wall and ignoring the next few muffled screeches; not like he had never heard it before. He smiled again as the screeches became louder; finding it sad such a clearly distressed sound could do little to bother him.

That was until the screech became a shout; a clearly humanoid scream. Khallis furrowed his eyebrows and slowly looked in the direction of the noise. He tentatively walked forward, listening around, until he heard one long, wail coming from the direction of the stone shed.

He put his ear to the thick wall, hearing a male voice screaming as something inside the shed was being slammed around. Someone was being murdered in there, he thought, or maybe tortured.

"Brilliant," Khallis sighed.

This wasn't Heliogabalus or Suzail, after all where merely looking at someone in a wicked manner on the street during daylight would earn you a stern look from the city guard (after dark was a different story). Waterdeep had its share of killers and predators all over the city; this one should be no different.

He walked away from the shed, which went quiet for a moment. Maybe the killer finished the job. Khallis took a few more deep breaths, letting the sound of the breeze get the better of him and make him feel much more relaxed.

Until that damn screaming returned.

Khallis rolled his eyes and gently tapped the festhall wall with his fist. All he wanted was some peace and quiet; now some bastard was killing someone in his personal quiet space.

He tried to tune the noise out, focus more on the sound of merrymaking in the festhall though the screaming was like a skunk cloud; unpleasant and unable to be ignored. He had heard screaming like this every day, though for some reason this was actually bothering him; it should have bothered him more.

Khallis gave a frustrated grunt, waiting for the moment the poor bastard finally died, though if the killer or torturer was particularly skilled that racket could have gone on for hours.

He pulled himself away from the wall and walking in the direction of the festhall, though the screaming was like a splinter in his finger that wouldn't leave him alone until it was gone. This was going against all his protective instincts, though he brushed them away while walking around the shed and finding a wooden door he slammed on twice.

"Can you find a better place to do that," Khallis shouted.

"Fuck off!" a male voice said from inside.

"Fuck off?" Khallis repeated, his blood boiling as the alcohol and memories flamed his usually cool temper even more. "Fuck off, you say. Let me teach you some manners, you rapscallion!"

He knew this could lead to him getting a sword to the chest or a lightning bolt to the throat. He also knew if he died doing this, he would go with some satisfaction; if the victim wasn't dead yet he soon will be as was his murderer.

Khallis drew his sword and kicked at the door knob at the right angle and the right pressure to send it flying to the ground. As he kicked off the knob, the pointed toe of his boot next hooked onto the hole where the knob once was and pulled the door opened as Khallis jumped back and awaited battle.

He looked inside and saw a sun elf; trousers around his ankles, tunic torn open, masculinity fully displayed, bent over with a blue-skinned humanoid in similar dress behind him.

"What…the…" Khallis choked out.

His words were interrupted by a blur of motion and a sword swinging at him wildly. Khallis parried the blade on instinct, regaining his senses enough to see the sun elf swinging for him again while clumsily tightening the strings on his trousers, which he must have slid back on as he jumped out.

"You knave, you perverted human wretch!" the elf spat, mid-length blond hair swinging around his face as he lunged forward again with his ornate longsword.

"Why in the Nine Flaming Hells are you doing that in a bloody tool shed," Khallis said, still trying to clear the shock.

"How dare you slam the door in on me like I am a common criminal," the elf spat, now swinging the sword more in the air instead of at Khallis. "Don't you know who I am, knave!"

"A windbag who gets bent over in a tool shed," Khallis said, keeping a close eye on the elf while watching the shed from the corner of his eye and seeing where the other individual went.

The shed was dark, but he did recall seeing green hair and scales on the brief glimpse he did get. The other man was likely a scaly-kin, maybe a water genasi, and maybe waiting in the shadows with a sword…or taking the distraction and running. Unfortunately this damn elf, which smelled heavily of wine, was in his way.

"I am Halein Laesnoral, heir to the Duchy of Risaltha," Halein sniffed as if he was giving Khallis a needed education that he lacked. "My uncle is the personal advisor to Queen Amlaruil."

"And I'm sure he's a villain too," Khallis replied, with a purposefully smug look.

Halein sputtered for a moment in outrage.

"Filthy human," the elf hissed, words failing him as his sword did the talking for him.

Khallis parried the predictable lunge and parried another quick disengage that was favored by most elves; surface elves that is. Most members of the Tel-Quessir loved to pull rapid movements like this to demonstrate their "superior elven reflexes," though it was mostly for show. Khallis lunged rapidly, leading to a rapid parry from the elf. Khallis merely slapped the blade before unleashing a triple feint before lunging for Halein's midsection.

Halein clumsily jumped back, though did so while spinning on the tips of his toes. Regardless, Khallis knew the elf's drinking had affected his balance. Khallis tipped forward on his toes, lunging forward in a jump that ended gracefully, though with a slight stumble he hoped he was the only one to notice. He too needed to watch his reflexes following several glasses of brandy.

The elf had a horrible poker face, as his smirk showed he noticed, but another series of feints straightened out his smug mouth. He got too cocky and clearly regretted it. Halein trued to compensate for his lost pride with a spin and a rapid slice toward Khallis' neck. Khallis only saw the blade as it was a foot from his neck, though parried and rapidly disengaged with an aim for the elf's shoulder. Halein dodged the predictable lunge, though gave a small shriek at the sting from his other shoulder and a small dot of blood appearing on his wrinkled, yet impeccably styled white tunic.

Halein growled, his fair skin turning red as he charged forward in one of the most roughshod moves an elf could make. Khallis parried the blade, but the force of the blade made his wrist ache. The elf had stopped playing nice. Khallis quickly recovered, lunging forward and smacking his thin blade against Hallein's with a bit more force. Halein disengaged too quickly for Khallis to see until the tip nicked the bottom of his chin.

Khallis whipped his blade toward Halein, though slammed against a silver-blue shortsword instead of the elf's carved longsword. The shortsword connected hard with Khallis' sword, wrapping the blades together and forcing them both toward the ground.

Khallis looked up, his eyes now peering into a pair of purple eyes with slitted pupils. The swordsman's green hair was mussed and falling over his face and the shoulders of his open blue and pink striped linen shirt, though his face bore a wry, if not scolding smirk. The elf was also locked into a similar position by a twin shortsword in the swordsman's other hand.

"That was hardly necessary, lover," the elf said with an irritated expression, "I am perfectly capable of dispatching this villain myself. I was trained…"

"That's what I'm afraid of," the green-haired swordsman interrupted, looking at his partner with an impatient glare.

Khallis' curiosity was piqued. His wrist turned with the right pressure to free his sword as he firmly struck against the shortsword. A second sword was out for defense as Khallis flicked his wrist for an opening. The second blade crashed into his as the first whipped toward him. Khallis stepped to the right and flicked his wrist again for a rapid feint at one sword while aiming for the other.

The swordsman saw the feint and disengaged his first blade as the second flew toward the human. Khallis moved to parry, but both blades connected with his in a motion too rapid for him to see. He compensated for the sudden surprise by spinning his blade in his hand while lunging, passing the sword to the other hand as the swordsman followed forward with both blades.

The follow through was a rapid feint, as Khallis found himself parrying the right blade that whipped forward. The swordsman made a light step forward and was about to move back before Khallis switched hands again, throwing the swordsman off guard.

The swordsman recovered quicker than Khallis expected and he found himself stumbling a step backwards as he overcompensated for his momentary surprise.

This green-haired swordsman's skills were startling; he had a firm understanding, almost mastery, of two-weapon fighting. Both his scaled hands worked in flowing unison, no hint of clumsiness from using an off hand as both blades were coordinated smoothly, flawlessly.

It was an ability that both scared and intrigued him; he had only seen this style perfected by drow, though his father was a notable exception. Khallis himself knew how to pull out a dagger at the right moment for an extra mode of protection while engaged with his sword, though he could hardly maneuver two weapons at once like his father or the dark elf who was a surrogate uncle to him.

As he analyzed the style, though the purple eyes and green hair were somehow a beacon in his still-foggy brain. He dodged another lunge, which he slapped back with a light, underhand parry. Khallis paid attention to the swords in both the man's scaled hands, though every feature seemed familiar to him somehow.

He never forgot a face and this youthful, scaly face made him recall a moment of ancient history…such as one night a tenday before Akaro left for Waterdeep. The night Ranhar Morsevo, his old friend who got too cocky with the wrong people, was found dead. He remembered having a drink with a young water genasi shipman named Sam.

"I see you got a tunic that is not made from a grain sack," Khallis said, making another rapid feint as the memories rushed back to him.

The water genasi slapped the blade in spite of the feint with a puzzled look. Salmryn whipped his swords toward the human as he studied his pudgy face, impeccably styled black hair and beard, and pristine clothing. The man had dark features, almost Calishite save for the fairer skin.

His mind suddenly recalled one night in a Calimport tavern, the night he met Akaro and a pudgy fiddler.

Salmryn spun on his toes, lunging forward with one sword, which was predictably parried and allowed his other blade to nick off a couple hairs on his opponent's goatee.

"Khalid…" Salmryn started.

"Khallis Raen," Khallis said, enunciating each syllable and giving Salmryn a pointed glare that said everything as did his spin of a sword and spinning feint that became a less flowery lunge.

"Oh yes," Salmryn said sarcastically, parrying the sword and lunging halfheartedly. "I almost mistook you for a villain named Khalid Marhala."

Khallis gave a stiff smirk as he lunged forward with renewed fervor, his blade parried away before he lay on again.

For some reason, every syllable of the name "Khalid Marhala" pronounced almost mockingly by the water genasi was like knives in his gut. Khalid Marhala was his stage name, though many in Calimport easily connected the name to his business name; his father's name which by itself was a red flag in the minds of Calishites.

Khalid Marhala was the only name Sam knew him by…though he called him that in a public space where anyone around could hear. He had traveled a thousand miles to escape his reputation in Calimport, though his reputation could spread if anyone recognized the name.

He knew it was an irrational thought, but he was not thinking rationally with the press of the alcohol and the overall press of thoughts that had been screaming at him since the moment he left Calimport.

Khallis charged forward, his blade barely parried by the water genasi, before he disengaged the sword and swiped at any open area.

Samlryn dodged the human's sword, automatically sensing the sudden change in demeanor. This had gone from a light sparring match to a serious duel in barely a second. He kept his swords in pace, though that was proving a bit more difficult with the way Khallis was continuously shifting his sword between his hands and lunging with every shift. He was indeed fast, likely to have seen many duels in the course of his life.

Salmryn parried the longsword before his other sword was crashing against it. His eyes followed the sword, though his vision caught a glimpse of his opponent's free hand; seeing his fingers were wiggling with a little too much purpose than merely stretching.

The sight set off enough of a warning to ready him for the mass of blue lightening bolts from the swordsman's hand that hurdled in his direction. He did a spinning dodge to the side, though the bolts bounce off the side of his right arm. Salmryn braced himself for the burn, yet only felt an intense tingle as if being hit with static.

The spell was a feint, distracting him enough to not notice when the human stepped forward in the space once occupied by the water genasi. Salmryn saw Khallis step right in front of him and raised his sword in anticipation.

An icy cold pressed against the side of Salmryn's neck as he saw his own sword press against the thick neck of his opponent.

Both froze, the steel chilling them both as they stared at each other. Salmryn and Khallis knew it would only take one slip or press from either blade to kill the other, or both at the same time.

Both eyes indicated a slight fear at the circumstance, though neither looked ready to pull back.

"Oh good," a booming voice said from the side, "I see you two have already met." Both sets of eyes remained on each other's opponent, though carefully turned their peripheral vision to the huge earth genasi standing a few feet away, arms crossed as he gave them an unimpressed glare. Akaro's stance was calm now, though both knew he could remove the greatsword from the scabbard on his back in a moment. "Now could you do me a favor and lower the godsdamned swords before you go creating a mess?"

Khallis immediately pulled his sword back and turned to face Akaro, feeling a bit of relief when he heard the screech of metal as two other swords slid into their sheathes.

Akaro tapped his enormous hand on his bare arm, though his stance became a bit more relaxed. A few other students had gathered around the side of the building and looked on the pair, some with smiles and others with looks of annoyance or concern. The elf he fought was nowhere to be seen.

Khallis felt every eye boring through him, every smile and every grimace judging him. It was like being twelve again and being laughed at by twenty students after the headmaster separated him and another irate child from an all out brawl in the dorm of Rhalisfer's Academy.

All it took was him getting drunk and having his ego pinched by some random water kin for him to launch an attack that could have killed someone.

It was just a sparring match, he thought to himself, though the alcohol and the million thoughts pressing in his brain since the moment he left Calimport would not let him think rationally. What he needed was to get the Hells away from there and get his head together.

Khallis turned to his opponent, who looked at him with a calm, yet puzzled expression, and gave a salute with his sword before sheathing it and walking away from the festhall. A few people behind him laughed, though he heard no other words from anyone or any steps following him.

He was alone for the moment and that's how it needed to be.

-----------

A soft breeze rustled the leaves on the small maple that made Khallis' shelter. He took a long draw from his pipe, letting the smoke trail past his lips and become one with the wind.

His face had cooled significantly, though the pervading sick through his stomach would not break its hold. He was calmer now, though still felt humiliated. This was his first night in Waterdeep, his first night as a humble student in New Olamn, and already he had almost killed someone.

Khallis' painful thoughts were broken by a rustling in the tree that was too heavy to be the breeze or even an animal. He knew he should at least look up, though lacked any motivation to do it.

"Gotta light," a familiar voice said from the branches above him.

Khallis managed a weak smile, reaching to his belt and producing a tindertwig. He looked up to see a mass of green hair hanging over him as the water genasi reclined in the thick branches a few feet above him, casually packing pipeweed into a whalebone pipe carved with a mermaid. Khallis reached up and handed the twig to his new visitor, who nodded in thanks before striking the twig against a branch and lighting his pipe with a few puffs.

"A spellcaster and a damn good swordsman all at the same time," Salmryn said, blowing out a long stream. "You are indeed one with which not to be trifled."

Khallis gave a tired smile, taking another draw and blowing out slowly.

"What happened to your mate," Khallis asked.

"Ran off," Salmryn replied, shifting his weight on the branch. "He's probably back at his apartment in the Trades Ward by now, which is actually my apartment and he's just squatting."

"What, no grand castle for the heir of the duchy of Risaltha," Khallis said, managing a small laugh that cleared his soul.

"Ha," Salmryn said, rolling his eyes. "No, he had his own apartment at one point in history, though found it suitable to take over my space. I really couldn't care less. I've lived in nicer sinkholes."

Khallis smiled again, looking at his pipe and watching the bluish smoke drift up from the bowl.

"So," Salmryn said, taking a draw and blowing out a quick stream, "Akaro tells me you are up here on an extended vacation, though he absolutely insisted it was voluntary."

"Essentially," Khallis said with a sigh. He knew he should have changed the conversation from here, though his conscience would not let him. He had only known Sam for a few hours, though for some reason felt he should at least be letting someone in a little. "I needed to get the Hells out. Calimport is not a nice town to make a life. It's beautiful indeed, has a rich, ancient perfume that just permeates everything. But it is a city of death, deception, greed."

"It must not have been easy to leave," Salmryn said with a nod. "Especially since Akaro told me you have a family business there. He didn't tell me anything more than that, I assure you."

Khallis grimaced; this one was going into dangerous territory, though territory he needed to make a bit safer. Letting him in on a few more details could work to his advantage. If the water genasi was a friend, he would be entrusting him with a part of his soul and could find safety in confiding in him. If he was a foe, he could use his moment of weakness to let him think he was vulnerable and surprise him later. The thought sounded comical the moment it passed through his brain.

"My father and I run a small operation," Khallis said, throwing out all fear and reluctance. "What is the nature of our business? It's irrelevant, the point is we control the business and have a small number of employees on our roster. I do most of the books; papa does most of the customer relations work."

Salmryn nodded in understanding, though knowing the human's tone and the nature of Calimport, it was likely he and his father were running a business that was not completely legitimate.

"To conduct any business in Calimport does come with a fair degree of peril," Khallis continued. "Negotiations at the end of a sword are commonplace. Did Akaro tell you of our friend…"

"Poor Ranhar."

"That would be the one. I have a very strong nerve, though my nerves were taxed a bit too much. I needed to get out of there for at least a few years, pursue other projects, find some new things to keep me occupied."

"You followed Akaro to school didn't you," Salmryn said with a laugh, blowing out a long stream.

"Yes," Khallis said, smiling at the happy thought. "And I see you did as well."

Salmryn gave a large grin as he took a draw from his pipe.

"What does papa make of you being here?" Salmryn asked.

"He has been supportive. As long as I am training in a marketable skill, that's all he cares about," Khallis said, letting the words sound through his brain, but realized they were a little tenser than he expected.

"Truly?" Salmryn asked.

"Yes," Khallis replied, taking a draw. "But…I still feel I have failed him somehow. Here I am learning songs and stories. There he is trying to avoid getting his blood spilled everyday. And here I am not there to help him, not there to keep a few more swords away from him."

"You care about your father, I can tell."

Khallis smiled on the thought.

"He's hardly an affectionate man," Khallis said. "But yes I care about him deeply. And I know, or at least assume, he does the same."

Salmryn took a draw, exhaling the smoke slowly as the back of his throat became tight. This conversation was touching on a few of his own sensitive spots.

"My father is a simple man, wants nothing more than to live in peace with his family," Salmryn said. "But he's one of these 'goodly' types; not as in the crusader, smiting evil paladin way, but as in he's a man with high ideals on how the world should work, how people should behave."

"And you tripped over those high ideals."

"On many occasions. I just have a simpler view of the world, not equating everything with black or white the way he does. Needless to say, we have had more than our share of differences and I have not always behaved in such a manner he would approve of. It's been only now when we can sit down and have an actual conversation, though that's probably more my fault than it is his."

"Though you still care about him deeply," Khallis said.

"Very much so," Salmryn said, studying the smoke drifting from his pipe. "I love him, but I just don't want to be him like everyone else wants me to."

Khallis gave a laugh that communicated understanding. He pictured the genasi standing on a deck with his human father, likely a sailor who fell for a lady of the ocean. Maybe his father was himself aquatic did not want his son setting foot on dry land.

"Maybe that's my problem," Khallis said. "I feel I should be my father, though I'm sure he would rather I wasn't. He's a hard man who had a hard life; maybe he does not want his son to go through the same."

"Your mother?"

"Dead. Drank herself to death when I was four. Yours?"

"One of the most wonderful people I have ever known…that is as long as her and my father stay miles apart."

"Separated, never liked each other, or just dealing with each other?"

"Separated since I was 15. Irreconcilable differences and I know neither of them is taking it well even today."

Khallis took one long draw from his pipe and managed a painful smile.

"And here we are now," Khallis said. "Two children of some of the most affected parents in the Realms, merely sitting here, half drunk and ready to go to class to learn more songs."

"Isn't it wonderful," Salmryn said, blowing out a few smoke rings.

Khallis smiled and managed a loud laugh.

"And by the way," Salmryn said. "Consider the necklace as a welcoming gift. I'm sure it's worth at least a thousand gold."

Khallis looked up at him with a smile, seeing a wry grin in response. He didn't even need to ask how the genasi knew that.

"You are too generous, Sam Cooper," Khallis said with a laugh.

"It's Sam Qualro," Salmryn said pointedly, using the surname of the sea elf family he lived with for a year in T'Quession.

"Of course," Khallis replied with a laugh.


	7. Part 7: 1377

**Legend of the Phoenix Brothers**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

**Part 7**

**16 of Tarsakh, 1377 DR, The Year of the Haunting**

**Ordulin, Sembia**

Artemis Entreri never considered himself a theater enthusiast by any stretch of the imagination, though he would have preferred any three copper drama performed by a lone drunk in a rat infested ally compared to this atrocity.

"This patch of trees is useless," the pseudo-menacing looking actor in scary black robes huffed while dismissively waving a hand, creeping forward on the low stage.

The patch of trees was actually wire and wood planks wrapped in cloth with more than enough cloth leaves. A mass of dead shrubs painted green dotted the stage over a green carpet that left pills of fuzz on the villain's black, curly-toed shoes. It was definitely symbolic of the average Sembian's view of the perfect forest.

"Look at this mess," said Orgo the Wicked, or more appropriately a one-time true thespian who could only now get roles in bad children's theater. "Orgo" or whoever, derisively tugged on a wire branch which in Entreri's opinion truly was disgusting. "It is infested with all kinds of furry vermin and insects." The last sentence was marked with a cloth bird dangled from the top of the set with a noticeable string and an even more noticeable fake bird call. "And it is dirty; there is grass and dirt all over. Burn down all the trees! Catch all the squirrels and use them for my stoles. Instead I will erect the most wonderful castle in this place for my black magic."

The mass of children at the tables below the stage predictably booed and jeered in response. With every hiss from all the little children in the audience, Orgo gave a nauseating belly laugh that was supposed to be the cackle of a true villain.

Entreri's mouth twisted into an annoyed grimace as he leaned against the doorway to the servant's entrance, his position on an unlit staircase giving him the perfect view of the crowd. No one had any idea he was there thanks to a bolero hat he still didn't know why he kept. He was tempted to burn it on more than one occasion, though he always kept it. It had practical uses after all; that was what he kept telling himself at least.

A series of highly polished round tables likely of red stained oak were scattered in front of the stage; at least three children sat in the elevated chairs at each table while leaning on the light blue tablecloths or scarffing down the bowls of ice cream or cheese covered flatbread served with too-able proficiency by a battalion of servers.

The ratio of adult guardians to children at each table was noticeably balanced in favor of the brats. Entreri just needed to look at each table to see the stories of each: one lord took his two rowdy boys to make it look as if he cared though he regularly checked a likely magical medallion around his neck for a summons. A highly dressed woman spoke lovingly to two girls and a lad, though Entreri could see her annoyance spread over her face. Many tables bore several children with one uniformed elderly man or a frumpy elder lady either doting on or slapping the wrists of the children. Mother and father were likely engaging in business, murders, or torrid affairs while nanny or butler took the kids for junk food and bad entertainment.

And one more parent was watching the proceedings from a back staircase, Entreri thought to himself with a grimace. Cloaked in magical invisibility to avoid being seen though taking pains to avoid…

The internal monologue stopped with the knot that formed in his stomach, a million realities hanging over him like a looming dragon, or at least two of them. Entreri shook his head, putting his attention back onto the crowd.

The audience was hardly a representative of Sembian nobility, yet was clearly not the dregs of society either; the entertainment itself, from the acting to the set design was low brow enough for the merchant class.

Orgo walked from the stage cackling, just as the play's hero snuck out from the trees; Alvio the Wood Sprite, the play's namesake and just as annoying as most goodly characters. He was a teenage actor in a green leotard so tight mothers and fathers in the audience would probably have a few things to explain to the little ones sooner than they had liked. His matted hair was dyed green and various twigs stuck out. His green and gold face makeup made him look like a woodsy whore and not a woodsy sprite.

Predictably, the crowd of young human children gave loud applause as their hero did an effete dance out of the "trees" mimicking sneaking as a flutist below the stage played a series of happy notes. Alvio walked up to the tree where Orgo once stood and patted the branches.

"I'm sorry, my old friend," Alvio said to the fake tree. "We will rid the forest of evil men like Orgo the Wicked. This is our home, my feathered and furry friends." The cloth bird swooped down as a cloth weasel controlled from under the stage by wooden sticks curled up lovingly at Alvio's curly green slipper. "You know how we can rid this space of Orgo's evil presence?"

The audience shouted two words that Entreri came to dread in the past five minutes of this whole theatrical atrocity.

"Pixie dust!" the children shouted, sending a cringe through the assassin.

Predictably, Alvio produced a bag of metallic fabric to wood chimes.

"_Just a little pixie dust makes the whole world sweeter_," Alvio sang, immediately joined by the children who would likely be annoying their parents with later, or more appropriately their nurses as having a good nanny was the typical Sembian version of good parenting. "_Just a little pixie dust chases the darkness away. Just a little pixie dust brightens up the storm clouds. Just a little pixie dust, makes the whole world bright."_

Alvio opened the bag and scattered mica shavings and rice soaked in green paint over the stage to the sound of more wood chimes.

Entreri rolled his eyes, scanning the crowd yet still not wanting to look at that one table in the front row; the entire reason he was here to begin with.

His official engagement wasn't for another hour, though he knew his client, the only label he wanted for her right now, would be here. It was a bold guess, though luck and intuition were on his side and he had been correct…for good or ill.

His peripheral vision caught the glimpse of impeccably combed copper hair near the front and a pouty profile he had seen too many times for his liking, proving his theory about where a certain pair of sisters would be tonight was correct.

Her sister's letter had been purposefully vague.

_We will be_ _in Ordulin on the 16th, shopping and taking in some whimsical theater before we will be available for your visit. Expect me around 8 by clock in the square._

I probably shouldn't be here, he thought to himself for the thousandth time; less a state of fact of his present position than a constant bell of warning inside his mind. It had not so much to do with his own personal safety but his emotional stability.

He had only come to terms with himself in the past two years; seeing this scene now could threaten to put him into the madness that lead him away seven years ago.

Entreri looked back at the stage, knowing he should take at least one better look than the peripheral glance he allowed himself when first entering the room. His black eyes slowly shifted into that direction, yet halted to another table of wrestling boys in the center row.

Entreri sighed hard, cursing his own possibly justified reluctance. One simple peek over in that direction could have meant the instant end of two years of relative peace; or one moment of defeating yet another fear and having answers at last. It could mean the difference between being in another trap of lies where the lies became grander as the trap likely became deeper, or knowing he was safe yet faced with something he still did not know if he could handle.

Over the past two years, admitting some point of weakness was more a tool for improvement than a burden.

The sight of a young male server in a stained green tabard walking toward the front caught his attention and in a moment the first prickle of reluctance let loose and disappeared; the bored-looking server carried a tray on which a large cake frosted in blue and purple leaves rested.

"Happy Birthday, Khallis" was written in wide, yellow letters across the top of the cake, nestled between a ring of seven gold candles.

The hairs on Entreri's arms and the back of his neck rose, remembering the name written out in a drow's flowing handwriting. His eyes fixed on the server, not allowing himself any reluctance; he had to do what he came here for.

The server came by the table as Entreri's vision caught Ilnezhara's soft, copper hair and pouty lips. The copper dragon was in the same human form Entreri remembered from seven years ago; a young, haughty woman with a perpetually seductive air. Tonight she wore a highly laced yellow dress, her copper hair impeccably brushed into a large, gold barrette.

She had leaned over the table and whispered something in the ear of her sister Tazmikella; the one Entreri had an appointment with later. Tazmikella wore an almost stylish brown dress; hardly an expensive robe for court though a little fancier than the utility clothing she normally wore in human form.

She lifted a strand of her graying copper hair out of the way, though her eye clearly shifted in Entreri's direction. The bolero may have concealed him from most eyes, though dragon eyes saw through almost everything. He knew he had been spotted though he stopped caring. Judging by her letter, she probably wanted Entreri to find her, or at least wanted to see if he was wily enough to follow the clues enough to catch a sneak peek before the formal introduction.

The server came beside the table. The dragon sisters parted, revealing the special birthday boy as his cake was lowered before him.

Entreri went numb; fully facing a reality he never thought would make him tremble but did. He rehearsed this moment a thousand times in his mind never thinking it would even faze him, yet the moment of truth made his skin crawl even if it was a small boy.

A pair of black eyes widened in happiness as a grin formed exposing two missing front teeth. The boy looked on his cake as Tazmikella rubbed his shoulder sharing his excitement.

Entreri denied the resemblance for a moment, yet the arch to his eyebrows, the angle of his jaw line, and the thick mop of impeccably combed, yet perpetually tousled black hair made the reality obvious. Entreri felt he was looking on himself in his mother's broken mirror on the wall of their hut when he was a small child. The image he saw then was of a pale, starved child in rags; now he saw that reflection with slightly chubby cheeks and wearing a neat blue jacket. Happiness shown from his eyes as his mouth was a beaming grin.

Entreri's vision caught an elderly woman in a blue dress sitting across from the boy, clapping with her own happy laugh. She was probably a nanny; it was highly unlikely a pair of old dragons would take on a young human without hired help. It was also likely there was more to the woman than plain sight would allow, especially if a certain individual still possessed a certain magical mask. It was a thought that made his stomach turn, though he put out the idea for a moment. He already had ideas for how to deal with that one.

The server pointed a wand at the cake and said a command word, causing each candle to burst with a small flame.

"Make a wish," the nanny said.

"But don't tell anyone, or else it won't come true," Tazmikella said in a semi-warning tone with her mouth betraying a smile.

Khallis blew at the candles with no hesitation; every flame puffing out with small streams of smoke. Tazmikella and the nanny clapped excitedly, while Ilnezhara's claps were more dainty and polite; an amused smile on her face. Khallis' small face broke into another wide smile as if the entire act of blowing out candles on a highly sugared pastry was the greatest moment of his young life.

Entreri's gaze was fixed on the boy; his son.

Entreri sighed hard; tipping his hat to make sure he was completely concealed as he swiftly walked up the steps of the servant's entrance and casually pushed the door open. He needed a few breaths of fresh air before his appointed meeting. Maybe by then reality would have become a bit more real.

---------

The side door into the alley flew open as Entreri stumbled over the high threshold to the ground below, taking a greedy breath of the cool night air while walking out of that cursed theater.

He looked down both wide ends, seeing nothing but a few barrels of trash and an alley cat chewing on a dead mouse; he was alone for now. Entreri looked up, noting the position of the stars above the roof line; he had at least another half hour before being at his appointment with Tazmikella, where she could bring him to his son, or perhaps order him away.

His son, the words echoed through his mind as he rested his back against the brick wall, running a gloved hand through his long, black hair. The reality was in front of him now and could no longer be ignored. It did not live in the imagination of a damnable dark elf or an untrustworthy dragon.

He wanted to laugh the thought away when he first received the news three months ago, call it an elaborate lie to ensnare him or to merely torment him.

Two months ago he wrote Dwahvel for the first time in six years; the halfling who had been his most faithful and caring friend when he appeared at the Copper Ante seven years ago a broken man. She took him in for the year he took refuge in Calimport trying to regain some measure of himself after a journey of personal revelation and reflection that left him wanting death. She prodded him out of his room after he spent three days wanting nothing else but to lie in bed.

Dwahvel listened to his every word, counseling him as he tried to reconcile with all the deep emotions that had been unearthed in Damara and Memnon, by Jarlaxle, the false priest of Selune who spawned him, and the damn Flute of Idalia among too many others. Entreri and Dwahvel even carried on a brief romance, though it never meant to last.

After spending a year In Calimport, he bid farewell to Dwahvel and went on to the road, taking various odd jobs across the continent and trying to find the peace he never had.

Now he lived in Proskur on the Dragon Coast, working as a thief in a collective of other master thieves. After cursing the gods for so many years, he found a measure of friendship and counsel with a group of Mask worshippers; the idea of finding some solidarity with a wicked god of thievery appealed to him during this emotional journey.

He thought he would cinch his inner peace with a letter to Dwahvel, telling her he was alive and had overcome his demons.

Entreri was elated to receive a warm letter his old friend, though was perturbed to find his Dwahvel's note accompanied by a letter signed by Jarlaxle that Dwahvel said was delivered to the Copper Ante three years ago.

_A word of caution, Artemis, _Dwahvel wrote. _ Jarlaxle's words in this message speak of greatly sensitive matters that I fear will summon your old demons. Whether his words are true or false, beware; he may be trying to trap you. His message speaks of extreme matters and if his words are false, he has become desperate indeed. Three years may have passed since I received this note, though I am sure you remember three years is a day in the long life of a drow. Proceed with caution._

The subject of the letter would ultimately be the small boy exchanging giggles with his nanny during another one of Alvio's musical numbers, trying to tumble Orgo's cheap clapboard tower with another happy song. The pair of black eyes, his own eyes, burned into Entreri's brain.

He wanted to ignore Jarlaxle's letter the moment it fell into his hands, let alone read his semi-sincere words of apology followed by a series of disturbing revelations.

Calihye was survived her tumble out the window, Jarlaxle wrote; her warrior's reflexes causing her to fall gracefully and only sustain a few cuts from the glass.

_It is now where I share some sad news, _Jarlaxle continued. _Calihye is now dead. She hit the bottle hard after you left, her spirit snuffed out. She did last for four years; her spirit bolstered even for a moment by the other piece of news you will likely curse me for._

_She was with child when you left her and nine months later birthed a healthy boy she named Khallis. Calihye was a devoted mother for the first years of your son's life, though her spirit slowly waned._

He wanted to ignore the letter, deny every single searing piece of information as Jarlaxle's ultimate way to trap him; another part of his subconscious would not allow that, however.

Entreri wrote to Tazmikella, seeking some confirmation or denial. His dislike of dragons never waned, though she was the only one he even remotely trusted to give him some straight answers, especially since Jarlaxle claimed she and her sister were the last ones to harbor the poor boy.

Tazmikella only confirmed all Jarlaxle said.

It was information that was too fantastic to be believed, though it was only obvious now; the child shared too many physical features with him on first sight for him to deny anything.

Entreri let out a groan, peeling himself from the wall and slowly walking forward, remembering that pointed chin and tiny point to both of his small ears; his fair skin bore a tinge of his father's Calishite tan, though his complexion was as fair as his mother's.

Hopefully deep scars would never mark him as they had Calihye, wherever she was now.

He leaned against the wall, the very thought of Calihye making the back of his throat even tighter. He loved her once, before she tried to kill him…after he killed her best friend if only by accident.

Entreri had accepted Calihye's death when he left her seven years ago…through the window of room they shared before she tried to kill him. He would have rather she did die that day, though once again Jarlaxle had his cursed psion intervene and leave Entreri to another false killing by his hands.

Calihye wasn't living in peace with her love and her companions as legends said another one of Entreri's old ghosts was now, another reason why he longed to see Jarlaxle's throat cut.

It was a thought that made Entreri's head hurt as a heaviness form behind his eyes; Calihye didn't die seven years ago, she would destroy herself four years after that.

She would destroy herself after delivering the final result of their ill-fated relationship; perhaps the one aspect of purity and innocence to ever come in any one of their lives.

Entreri leaned against the wall, letting out another sigh as he wondered why he even cared. Maybe that was the ultimate indicator he actually possessed a soul.

His gloved hand clasped the brick, allowing himself one sob before hastily pulling himself together.

Lingering was not a wise idea, he though, shoving himself from the wall and marching down the alley. It was best to just get this over with.

---------------

"Make sure you get my good side," Jarlaxle said, turning his head to the right and sticking his pointed nose further in the air.

His slender arm reclined on the light oak mantelpiece in the dragon sister's small apartment; a small refuge in Ordulin where the whole "family" could be together with no worries about all their respective business rivals and any potential nosing around by King Gareth and his friends.

"Do you prefer my hat on or off," the drow said, his red eyes turning to the small artist seated in front of a child-sized easel.

Khallis looked at him, his little face twisting with concentration.

"Leave it off," Khallis said. "I want to see you better."

"Very well," Jarlaxle said, removing his purple, plumed hat with a grand sweep and letting his arm fall to his side.

Khallis dipped his brush into the cup of water before smearing the bristles on the small square of blue paint, trying not to dip into the green paint located on the other side. He raised the brush and blotted it on the paper before looking at his subject with an expression of such playfully deep concentration Jarlaxle had to keep himself from laughing. The boy held up a chubby thumb while looking at Jarlaxle with one eye closed, though Jarlaxle doubted he understood the purpose of that gesture.

In his own imagination, he was a master painter creating a great work of art with the small watercolor set he picked out from a store shelf as one of his birthday presents. The stately little coat he wore to the theater was his other present purchased by his "aunties." Tickets to see "Alvio the Wood Sprite," a popular character among Sembian children, was a gift from Uncle Jarl even if it was only worth an opportunity for him and the boy to share mocking laughs at the awfulness of it.

They wanted to show him a good time for his birthday, though through modest means he could better appreciate than through an extravagant showering of gifts, at least by Tazmikella's ruling before the four stepped through the portal to Ordulin. She already said on a few occasions Aunt Ilzi and Uncle Jarl spoiled the boy too much; he was a growing man, not a pet human.

"My my, that is quite the talent," Ilnezhara said walking through the front study and seeing the humanoid-looking blobs of dark blue on the paper. She crouched down and kissed Khallis on the cheek. "Now what will you do with your masterpiece when it is done?"

"It will be framed, of course," Khallis said. "I will probably add it to my collection, though I could get good money for it from an art dealer, maybe a museum."

Jarlaxle bit his lip and choked back a laugh. Ilnezhara looked up at her elven lover and gave him a semi-scolding look with a smile.

"Now wherever do you get your business advice," she said.

"I will not disclose my secrets," Khallis said, dipping the brush in the cup again before smearing the bristles into red paint, probably to paint Jarlaxle's maroon outfit.

"Smart boy," Jarlaxle said, receiving a profound eyeroll from Ilnezhara.

"When is Aunt Tazi coming back," Khallis said, looking at Ilnezhara. "I haven't seen her since the play ended."

"Your aunt will be here very shortly and she is bringing a special guest," Ilnezhara said. "Take a few more minutes to work on your painting and clean up." Ilnezhara lightly tapped Khallis paint-spattered hand, feeling a streak of rough, slightly swollen skin underneath. "What did you do to your hand?"

"It was a boar, a wild board was chasing us," Khallis said excitedly. "I was helping Aunt Tazi carry firewood yesterday and this huge thing rushed out at us. I took a piece of wood and hit it on the nose and it ran off squealing. All I got was a big splinter, though I'm sure it could have been much worse."

"Making him carry wood," Ilnezhara said, carefully examining the wound and seeing the scabbed scratch where the large splinter had once been. "Does she think he's a servant?"

"She's not treating him like a prince and that's not a bad thing," Jarlaxle said. "Having him carry some wood shows him some character, maybe will build his muscles a bit more. When I was his age I was made to scrape every ounce of fungus that grew on the wall of my House dungeon with a serving fork and given a lash for every spore that was left. I hardly think she is working him to death."

"I think it's fun," Khallis said, painting Jarlaxle's maroon tunic. "I took in four whole logs yesterday, I used to just take in two but I'm getting stronger."

Khallis put his brush in the cup and slid back the sleeve of his brown play shirt that had seen many encounters with mud, grass, and paint, revealing a bare arm he flexed to show the faint outline of a muscle under his pale skin.

"I suppose," Ilnezhara said with a sigh. "I bet you are going to use those big muscles of yours to fight more dangerous foes."

"I wanted to slay the boar, but Aunt Tazi wouldn't let me," Khallis said with a grimace.

"You will slay creatures when you are older, Kay," Jarlaxle said, pointing at the boy. "I am certain of that. Now you need to train more, get stronger so you know you will best your foe."

"You'll help me with that, right Uncle Jarl?" Khallis said, his face beaming.

"You have my solemn word," Jarlaxle said with a nod and a grin, trying not to laugh at Ilnezhara's head shake and quiet groan.

The creak of the heavy front door turned all eyes toward the front of the room as footsteps could be heard outside.

"Aunt Tazi's back," Khallis said, leaping from his small chair and walking toward to the closed door of the study.

Ilnezhara followed him for a step, holding his shoulders as gently as she could, though the boy was still put back a step by the stronger force of the dragon's touch. She gave him an apologetic look, which Khallis shrugged off.

He knew his aunt was a little stronger than normal, especially the one day he looked outside his bedroom at Aunt Ilzi's castle when he was five and saw Aunt Ilzi standing in the yard and growing larger as wings sprouted from her back and scales grew from the rest of her body.

It took a nice sit-down conversation from all three of his guardians to fully explain, though Khallis' active imagination and adventurous spirit left him with a beaming grin and happy laughter the entire time; his aunties were dragons in human form.

His uncle was also an elven prince who had to hide his identity in public lest his subjects mob him or his wicked enemies try to harm him.

Khallis' imagination also helped keep him quiet about the true identities of his guardians; it was their special secret because they were such a fantastical family.

"Aunt Tazi is bringing you a surprise," Ilnezhara said, "one just for you to see, so your uncle and I are going to step out for a moment so you can have your special guest all to yourself."

"Right," Jarlaxle said walking from the mantle toward Khallis. "I will have to finish my modeling tomorrow, though you are indeed the best artist I have ever worked for."

Khallis laughed as Jarlaxle tousled his thick mop of black hair. The drow then reached into his cloak and produced the simple black mask. Khallis nodded in understanding as his uncle put the mask on his face and his form turned into that of a white-haired, frumpy-looking nanny in a plain blue dress. Jarlaxle put a finger to his lips with a smile on his now pale and wrinkled face, a gesture Khallis returned with a laugh.

Jarlaxle took Ilnezhara's hand, both flashing smiles to Khallis before stepping up to what looked like a large armoire, though was an invisible doorway to the hall the two simply walked through.

A moment later, the front door to the study opened and Tazmikella walked in, saying a few words to someone in the hallway out of Khallis' view.

"Aunt Ilzi said you brought me a guest?" Khallis whispered excitedly.

Tazmikella knelt down, putting her hands on Khallis' shoulders and gazing into his face; her mouth opening for a moment as she tried to find the right words.

"Khallis, there is a man here to see you," Tazmikella said. "And he is indeed a very special guest."

"Is it Elminster," Khallis said with wide eyes, his imagination considering all the possibilities. "Maybe a great sorcerer to teach me my powers. Aunt Ilzi said you would have a sorcerer teach me since she said I could be a great sorcerer, I already have the power."

The cup of water on the table behind him floated up and levitated for a moment, the brushes floating up after that and dripping paint-tinged water on the carpet. Tazmikella laughed again, walking behind Khallis and plucking the cup and brushes out of the air and putting them back on the table.

Objects tended to levitate when Khallis got too excited, or too angry. It was a phenomenon that occurred since he was six; an indicator known to both sisters as a sign of innate magical powers in a child. Such children were natural-born sorcerers; perhaps born with a bit of dragon blood in their bodies, though Ilnezhara could only hope as Tazmikella remained realistic.

"No darling," Tazmikella said with a clearing laugh, walking back over to Khallis and giving a brief glance at the blue-green stain spot on the red and gold woven carpet before kneeling down again. "Your guest isn't Elminster or a powerful sorcerer; he is more special than that. His name is Artemis; he is a warrior and a bit of an adventurer. He is your father, Khallis."

Khallis' beaming face straightened into a look of calm awe, his mind recalling all the stories Jarlaxle told of his father; a great adventurer and hero who spent his days guarding kings and slaying monsters.

Something deeper worked through Khallis' brain than just heroic tales; something that told him this visit had much more meaning though he did now know how.

"My father," Khallis said.

"Yes," Tazmikella said. "He is here to visit you, see what his son looks like since he has been away for so long, though he will have to leave again since he is a very busy man. Do you want me to bring him in?"

Khallis gave an excited nod. Tazmikella rose and smiled, turning back to the door and walking outside for a moment.

The boy heard his aunt exchanging a few words with a man outside; his father. The depth of that reality became clearer and clearer in his young mind.

The door opened again as Tazmikella stepped in. Following her was a man in a black cloak and clothes. His long, black hair fell over his slender shoulders though was carefully tucked behind his ears each adorned with two simple gold hoops. Deep lines creased around his nose past his thick goatee, enough to make him look worn yet not old. Khallis saw a weariness on his face, yet his black eyes burned with an icy strength.

Butterflies danced in Khallis' stomach as he saw his own face, though considerably older and more touched by experience.

Artemis gave him the same look of numb amazement he knew he wore, perhaps seeing the same thing.

Entreri gazed down at those wide black eyes looking up at him in curiosity and amazement. There was youthful passion in his son's eyes; a fire of life that had yet to be snuffed out and hopefully never would be.

"Well met," Khallis said with a small bow.

Entreri's mouth crept into a smile.

"Well met, indeed," he said.

"I shall leave you two alone," Tazmikella said, giving Entreri a pointed look communicating she wasn't straying too far. "Khallis I'm letting you stay up late tonight, though not all night."

"Thank you, Aunt Tazi," Khallis said, watching his aunt leave the room though noticing the slight strain in his father's smile when he addressed her.

Khallis looked up at his father, who returned the same hesitant look as silence continued between both. Khallis' eyes fell to Entreri's belt, eying the brilliant jeweled dagger and menacing-looking sword with a skeleton on the hilt. Entreri slightly grimaced at the obvious notice, a part of him almost wishing he had at least put a cover or illusion charm on Charon's Claw so the young boy wouldn't have to see the sword's potentially frightening hilt.

Khallis' lit up with calm amazement as he examined both weapons.

"That's a neat sword," Khallis said. "Did you get that from a lich? Maybe a powerful necromancer, or a dracolich's horde?"

Entreri cocked an eyebrow. This one was imaginative, a trait in a young boy that could be a gift or a curse depending on how wily he was and how protective his guardians were.

"How do you know I didn't just win it in a card game?" Entreri asked.

"Because I don't think you did," Khallis said with a calm certainty that went beyond his years. "I think there's a story there."

"And what makes you say that," Entreri said, realizing he was in a small battle of wits with a seven-year-old and enjoying the game too much.

"Well, I've heard you're an adventurer," Khallis said. "Even if that was just a story, I don't think someone would wear a sword like that so openly if they'd just won it. Someone would be looking for it or just challenge you thinking you could do something with it, which would be really bad if you couldn't actually use it."

Entreri furrowed his brows, almost speechless. The child may have had an overactive imagination, but that made him perceptive to every possibility. What would have happened to that perception if he wasn't told grand tales and his guardians only beat him or…

"You are very perceptive," Entreri said with an involuntary smile. "And you're right. I actually stole this sword from the compound of a rich trader, fighting off wizards and a horde of warriors the whole way."

Khallis gave him a sour look, sensing the hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"I guess I just never felt it was a tale worth telling," Entreri said with a slight nod of semi-sincere apology. "And I was only one warrior in a small army when I claimed this blade. I personally dislike heroic tales."

"Why not," Khallis asked, that same look of surety on his face.

"I think they are worse than lies, they mask reality in favor of what sounds grand and is not true," Entreri said.

It's a seven-year-old boy, a part of Entreri's brain screamed. You are locking horns with a seven-year-old.

"Maybe the plain story is the lie," Khallis said. "Maybe more things happen in a grand way that people don't want to talk about because they're too scared of them. Maybe heroic tales are told by the truly brave."

Khallis' posture straightened as another smug smile formed on his face, bringing out a laugh from the boy. That reaction and body language from anyone else would have earned a glare, though this was his own son. It was indeed like looking in a mirror.

"Touché," Entreri said with a nod. "You have me there."

He glanced from the boy to a small easel set up a few feet away, catching a glimpse of a maroon body with a dark-blue head and hands.

"Oh so you're an artist," Entreri said, taking a look at the painting.

"Ilzi and Tazi gave me that for my birthday," Khallis said, his smug expression turning slightly panicked at his father's notice of the painting.

Khallis may have been shrewd, but he had all the typical reactions of a seven-year-old especially when trying to hide something.

Entreri took a better look at the boy's painting, the typical blocky style of a young child though with many clear humanoid features; such as the large, pointed ears that stuck out from the sides of the figure's head.

"It's a dark elf," Khallis said. "We saw one unloading a ship in Selegaunt. Have you ever seen a dark elf before?"

"Many," Entreri said with a daring smile. A part of him wanted to give the child the benefit of the doubt and credit for imagination. Another part of him knew he was lying. "I'm not too fond of them personally, a little too tricky for my liking."

Khallis shifted uncomfortably, a reaction that made Entreri regret seeing the painting in the first place. The drow's dark blue face bore a wide smile, his blocky arms wide open. Children would not paint scary monsters with such happy faces and open, welcoming body language.

"I know of one dark elf named Jarlaxle," Entreri said, wanting to have everything out in the open with the boy. Khallis shifted again, looking a bit more scared, though Entreri gave him a calm nod. "I can tell you know Jarlaxle too, and I hear he's a very nice person."

"Uncle Jarl is a great guy," Khallis sputtered out. "He tells me all these stories of his adventures and brings me to plays and we play sava when it's rainy. I got a cold and he brought me cocoa and soup. He's a real great guy, I swear. I don't know what other dark elves are like but he's not wicked or mean like people say he should be."

Entreri gave a sad smile, hearing only insistence in his son's words and not fear for anyone but his uncle's reputation. The words sounded natural too; he had heard many children giving coaxed and prepared speeches on the behest of adults, though there were no indication his words were anything but genuine.

"I believe you," Entreri said with a small laugh. "Jarlaxle and I were once very good friends, we traveled together for a long time. Then we just drifted apart."

Entreri surprised himself with his last few statements. He had spent the past seven years cursing Jarlaxle's name for every betrayal and manipulation; now he spoke of the drow mercenary with less bile than he had felt for so long. Maybe this was progress.

"Uncle Jarl told me he and you would go on adventures," Khallis said. "He told me you killed a dracolich."

Entreri gave a clearing laugh; he could only imagine what Jarlaxle told him about that incident and all probably in the context of a grand story.

"He told you that did he," Entreri said. "And yes, in a way I suppose he was right."

"If I may say so, it sounds like you have had some heroic tales, even though you don't like them very much," Khallis said.

"You have me again," Entreri said. "So I assume your uncle is the one who told you I was such a great adventurer."

"Well, yeah," Khallis said. "He and my aunties. They said that's why I've never met you before; you were so busy."

A small knot formed in his stomach. Jarlaxle and the dragon sisters apparently spoke highly of him to his son; enough to make him think his father was a great hero and not a villain. Children were quite impressionable and any indication his father was anything ignoble would have put at least a small stopper in this gush of admiration

These words also sounded sincere, not something said to flatter him or curry his favor. It was as if the child was speaking from emotion and not acting, though he couldn't let the words get to him too much lest they were part of a trap.

"What about your mama," Entreri said, wanting some answers to yet another nagging question. "Where is she?"

Khallis looked at the floor, putting his hands behind his back and shifting again.

"Mommy's in Arvandor, that's what Uncle Jarl says," Khallis said, his voice taking a sad tone. "He said she got wasting sickness and was called to serve someone named Fenmarel, an elf god. Uncle Jarl said she worshipped him when she was alive and he made her one of his guardians."

The knot in Entreri's stomach tightened as too many memories flooded back to him. He wanted to press further, but too many emotions had crossed him already.

Maybe his son's imagination was the greatest coping mechanism he had; mommy wasn't dead, mommy was called to serve her god. It was a statement that normally twisted his nerve, though when considering his son it made too much sense; seven-year-olds should not be exposed to the full cruelty of the world. A boy whose mother drank herself to death was probably better off thinking she merely got sick and died; maybe he could handle the truth when he grew older.

"On the Feast of the Moon, my aunties take me to see where she's resting," Khallis continued.

"Where is she resting," Entreri said. He remembered how many people had to die to get his own mother a headstone, though maybe Khallis would never have to know that pain.

"Outside Palishuck," Khallis said. "Mommy had a friend there named Wingham, a half-orc. He helps clean around her stone and planted a flower bush there. He has a niece named Arryan and every time I go to visit, Arryan gives me cider and cookies. We have a little party with Arryan and Olgherken, that's her husband. They have five kids, one my age and bigger than me, but he's a half-orc so that's normal."

Entreri gave a sad smile; Arryan and Olgherken had found their happiness and another old ghost was put to rest. The speed at which Khallis found a happy thought amid the sadness of describing his mother's grave also gave him reason to hope, or perhaps be more concerned.

He had found a way to deal with his own tragedies besides getting angry at the world. Being surrounded by a group of doting adults probably gave him a better chance at a happy future; a future Entreri was denied…or was he.

"Can I paint you," Khallis said, his heavy tone lightening slightly.

"You want me to model for you," Entreri said with a clearing laugh.

Khallis nodded his head excitedly. Entreri pointed to the easel, his nerves slightly easing as and the boy rushed into his seat.

----------

"Is the little darling off to bed now," the elderly nanny said as Entreri came through the door out of the side room.

"He is," Entreri said, gradually tucking the painting into his belt and walking slowly past the old woman.

It was probably midnight and Khallis was practically nodding off on the rug and about to use the sava board they played on as a pillow before Aunt Tazi fetched him for bed.

The nanny's wrinkled face turned up in a smile as she eyed the paper in his hand. Only too happy to satisfy her curiosity, he took it out and displayed the blob of black and yellow that took the shape of his body, complete with black outfit and black hair framing a smiling face.

"Oh that is so precious," the nanny said, clasping her withered hands in front of her blue dress.

Entreri smiled in return, the memory of his son giving him a huge hug before going to bed was the only thing that kept him from sticking a dagger in the "old woman" right there.

"He is definitely creative," Entreri said, taking a few steps closer to the woman.

He tucked the painting in his belt and made to straighten his cloak before his hand rushed up and brushed against the nanny's face, predictably feeling the rough leather of Agatha's mask which he grabbed hold of and pulled.

The nanny's cloudy blue eyes were now a bright shade of red and her pale, wrinkled face a smooth ebony. Entreri gave a stiff smirk with a cackle as he looked into the face of one he hoped had the decency to die by now.

Jarlaxle returned his smile, though with a bit more mirth than the human had intended.

"So this is the kindly nanny tending to my son," Entreri said, his tone taking a significant edge.

"I know, I look horrid in powder blue," Jarlaxle replied with a grin.

Entreri gave a stiff laugh back. Jarlaxle laughed along, though made a mental note of where he kept every blade on his person.

"My, my, it has been a long time since I heard one of your quips," Entreri said, his voice sobering slightly. "And you are a lucky man because I have decided not to kill you."

"That is indeed reassuring," Jarlaxle replied. In the back of his mind he had been preparing for this reunion, not knowing if he should expect a fight or merely some glares. "I sense a little less warmth than you had for me when we last parted. Then you were merely content to curse me, now you say your last thoughts were a bit less pleasant.

Entreri stepped closer to him, giving him an unnerving smile.

"I merely despised you then," Entreri said. "Right when I simply thought you were a manipulative son of a bitch who I didn't need in my existence. I had a small change of heart for a time, oh about five years ago. It turns out a mutual friend of ours nearly lost his life slaying a horde of sea demons outside of Waterdeep."

Jarlaxle smiled and tried to cover his surprise, knowing exactly what was coming next.

"Every dockhand, shipman, and tavern wench in Waterdeep was wagging their tongues about it when I passed through," Entreri said, trying to keep from screaming at him lest it draw little ears that shouldn't hear papa and Uncle Jarl fighting. "A warrior, a drow warrior no less, hacked apart a few hundred nasty creatures who took over a pirate ship, saving the whole region from a mass of hungry teeth. Now what is so curious about this story, you may ask. What is so curious is the name that keeps coming up is one that should belong to a dead man; I think you know of whom I speak."

"Be reasonable, Artemis, word travels slowly among the common rabble," Jarlaxle said. "The stories are without a doubt merely that and those who tell them clearly have no idea the man they sing of is dead."

"That was my initial thought," Entreri replied, taking a light breath to calm himself a bit more. "Especially since some of those stories included the drow in question giving birth to a half-sea devil, half drow baby he had been implanted with during the battle."

Jarlaxle chortled with the absurdity of the idea. He didn't need to tell the human about his Vhaeraunite informant in Sshamath who, after voluntarily gulping down a vial truth serum, told of delivering said infant himself.

"Then I noticed every story had the same details, especially the name and description of the hero, right down to his lavender eyes and red-haired human companion," Entreri continued. "Though the high priestess at the temple of Mielikki was only happy to tell me the name of the courageous hero her temple brought back to health. Granted it took an angry ranger to protest how a noble temple healed a vile drow to get her to give some details," Entreri then pointed to himself, "though their ward was hardly a secret."

Jarlaxle managed another chuckle, though felt Entreri's gaze boring through him. It had been too long and he already knew the truth. Denying it would be useless.

"Fine, what do you want me to say," the drow said with a sigh.

"Nothing, nothing that I would believe at least," Entreri said. "You kept Calihye alive after all, just another foe you let me think I killed for your own purposes. Let me guess, the second Kimmuriel dragged me kicking and screaming from that tower, you had Rai'gy do the rest. I don't know if you did it for blackmail, did it to get the Shard, perhaps did it out of some remote solidarity for a fellow rogue, and truth be told I really couldn't give an orc's hairy ass about why."

"So alas, I'm caught," Jarlaxle said dramatically, putting a hand to his chest and feeling somewhat relieved the ancient ruse was over. "I assume you hunted Master Drizzt down, going for that fair fight you were denied, or perhaps you took advantage of his injuries and killed him outright."

Entreri smiled and gave a dismissive chuckle, his body language a bit calmer than Jarlaxle expected.

"It's ancient history to me now," Entreri said. "I've grown a bit wiser, so I will leave him to his own miserable existence. I cannot count how many times I wanted to come after you and would have been completely justified doing to."

Jarlaxle considered him for a moment, remembering a friendship he always felt he had a hand in ending.

"You're right," Jarlaxle replied, his tone even and almost resigned. "You would have been perfectly justified.

The reaction put Entreri on his heels for a moment; maybe he was admitting guilt and not trying to smooth it over with more lies. It was one reaction that calmed his bile again. He had spoken his peace already, what else was there to do from here.

"But like I said, you have no danger from my blade…at the moment," Entreri said. "What you have done for me, I will confess, pays for most of your indiscretions. I'm here now because of that letter you sent Dwahvel, though for a while I assumed you were lying to me."

"I wish I was," Jarlaxle said. "Though maybe that's what it feels like to have a conscience. Seeing a four-year-old boy huddled by his mother's dead body and imploring me to lower my tone lest I wake her is one of those moments where if you have a soul, it nudges at you."

Entreri gave a sigh, a chill going through him with the weight of Jarlaxle's words.

"I felt I should give him a bit more than what he had," Jarlaxle said. "At least better than what his father had."

"And I cannot thank you enough," Entreri said, his voice communicating reluctant sincerity.

"He is your son," Jarlaxle said. "He is yours to claim."

"Unfortunately that cannot happen," Entreri said. "I know he is safe here, I cannot assume that if he is with me. I trust his aunties and uncle will take good care of him, though I will hardly be a stranger to him. Mark my words, Jarlaxle; if ever I get any hint his body or his mind are being harmed while in your care I swear to the gods I will kill you."

Jarlaxle gave an understanding nod.

Entreri bowed, giving a small smile as he walked toward the front door.

"Khallis wants to learn how to fish," Jarlaxle said, causing Entreri to stop for a moment. "I know of a nice pond outside the King's Forest in Cormyr, we should make a day of it on your next visit."

Entreri turned around and gave him a tired glare that softened into a resigned smile.

"Perhaps," he said, before turning around and walking to the door.


	8. Part 8: 1380

**Legend of the Phoenix Brothers**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

**Part 8**

**23 of Mirtul, 1380 DR The Year of the Blazing Hand**

**Silverymoon**

It was a scene that played out when Salmryn was much younger and still invaded his dreams; the skittering thumps of snarling creatures, the clash of steel, his father's grunts and shouts as he hacked through each one of the beasts that charged after him.

Salmryn's back pressed further against the rocky slope as he shifted his stance on a large boulder as the rushing water of the River Surbrin lapped against his toes.

Just a few minutes ago he and his dad were walking across the freshly grown grass, their boots taking on the wetness of the heavy rains as dad showed him the remains of a beaver dam on the side of the river washed out by the frequent river swells. Salmryn's father had just pointed out the small family of beavers cautiously wandering from the banking to rebuild their dam when the thundering of boots broke their peaceful concentration.

Salmryn took a few breaths as his pounding heart calmed only slightly. He was scared; though not as much as he was when he was a little kid being chased by a mass of orcs. Now goblins pressed on his father, smaller creatures and easier to take care of as the orcs took a rest from their own attacks. Now Salmryn was in a safe location, no goblin knew where he was unlike that day when he was four.

He was safe, but dad was still out there fighting off the ugly creatures that swarmed around him. Salmryn slowly stretched up, grabbing the rock ledge and lifting himself up to peer over the rocks.

Dad held his ground, hacking into every creature that came near him, hitting aside a few spears and jumping over thrown caltrops or lines. Salmryn fell back to his former position, the sight of monster blood not scaring him as much as the orc blood spilled when he was four.

Here he was hiding behind a few rocks and there dad was fighting off the creatures all alone. The idea made Salmryn feel bad; he should be doing something more than hiding.

It wasn't as if he was a little kid anymore running scared from a bunch of orcs; he was almost eight-years-old, almost a man. Dad had given him a small hunting knife for their excursions on the road, though told him never to use it against anyone unless he had to. Now would be the best time; he was armed and could make some ground against the goblins…though dad was bigger and there were too many goblins for him to take down.

Salmryn stretched himself up the ledge again for another peak; there were only a few more goblins left but dad looked tired; his gloves bore slices and a few links on his mail shirt had come undone. His snarling face had a few scratches Salmryn did not remember seeing earlier, meaning a few of the spears had closed in on him at some point.

Dad could use some help, Salmryn thought, flexing the muscles in his arm, which were slightly more toned than the average seven-year-old. He wasn't much bigger than Uncle Regis and Uncle Regis had bested foes in battle.

But dad might not want him taking part in a battle. He had even begged him to let him learn how to use a sword, but dad always insisted he was too young. Though dad could always use some help.

He looked up at the goblins again, analyzing their movements and looking for the best place to sneak into their ranks; though they actually stayed tight. If he did manage to sneak in, there could be more goblins waiting and pounce on him. Size was definitely not on his side.

Salmryn lowered himself again, lightly punching the ledge in frustration as he looked at the rushing water that was so inviting, though that was another place mom and dad wouldn't let him go. This wasn't his little pool in Mithral Hall; this was rushing water that could easily pick up a kid and carry him away, or worse crush him in the rocks. Drowning, of course, was not a concern.

The Surbrin was running high; the snowmelt and the torrential downpours that marked the area for the past tenday had turned the river from a low stream to raging rapids. Salmryn eyed the water carefully; the water was high enough so he could swim along the surface and avoid the rocks. If he was swept up, he could grab the rocks and hold on, maybe pulling himself to shore, guiding his way down the river, or at least stay under water and hold on until someone pulled him up.

He doubted the goblins could do that much, though they wouldn't know that. All they would know was they were chasing after a meaty little kid. Salmryn's smile widened at the idea. Dad might not like it, but dad would have to admit it was a good idea.

Salmryn leaned back against the ledge once more, pulling himself up and peaking over the banking to see several more goblins rushing in at dad, who looked kind of tired. He took a few breaths, readying himself for what he had to do next. A specter of doubt crossed his mind, through floated away in a moment.

He ripped off his brown cloak and threw it on the rock underneath him, then took off his black boots, freeing his webbed toes, which he could use like mini fingers for climbing and maneuvering. He peeled off his white shirt next, leaving his body free for the action he was about to take next.

Salmryn balled-up his shirt and boots in his cloak and placed them on the rock before grabbing the embankment and leaping straight up. His toes hit the wall once to propel him upward, causing him to snap up in the air and land perfectly on the grassy bank.

"Hey, uglies!" Salmryn shouted at the goblins. Five warty faces and one familiar ebony face snapped in his direction, all eyes wide. "Come after a tastier meal!"

"Salm, no!" Salmryn's father screamed.

The stupid goblins glanced at the small water genasi once and ran headlong in his direction; spears and clubs swinging as they bounded for the little creature, just as he expected.

Salmryn's stomach lurched, though he held his ground, waiting until the goblins were a few feet away from him. He ran in place for a step to confuse them before running off the banking with the right amount of force to put him in the water.

His form briefly hovered over the rocks for a heart-stopping moment, though the final gravity sent him plunging into the high, icy river.

Salmryn's lungs adjusted from the thin air to the thick water as he immediately felt himself thrust forward with the violent current. He was only pushed forward for a few feet before finding a handhold on a rock on the side of the river, stopping him in place though the pull of the river was much harder than he anticipated.

His other hand found another handhold as his nimble toes also clutched the rocks, though he knew his position would not last. A series of splashes followed and Salmryn looked up to see goblin after goblin crash in behind him. Two were immediately swept up by the river and were gone with high-pitched screams. Two more hit the rocks hard and clumsily tumbled into the water, one swept away while the other sunk to the bottom; neck at an odd angle as blood poured from its mouth.

Salmryn watched in horrified awe as the goblin gave one choke before its eyes rolled in the back of its head and the current slowly swept it away. His attention was too rapt with the dying creature to notice one goblin lunging at him, also grabbing to the wall by its fingers while the other hand held a broken spear shaft.

Salmryn heard the muted grunt followed by a series of choking coughs and turned behind him to see the goblin lunging at him. Before he knew what he was doing, his hunting knife was in his hand; his arm, more attuned to moving underwater than the goblin, easily pushed the shaft aside and was buried into the goblin's throat to the handle.

A thick ooze encased Salmryn's hand as the goblin's blood poured out, forming a cloud of thick red in front of it. Salmryn gagged, his senses fully realizing the goblin's blood flowed thanks to the blade he held. The goblin gave one last gurgling snarl, jolting Salmryn with fear. On reflex, he partially withdrew the blade and sliced into the goblin's throat; not feeling safe until the thing stopped moving.

A section of skin flapped against Salmryn's hand as he could taste the blood pouring into the water. He withdrew the blade and lifted the dead goblin to let the current take it. He gagged, wanting to be out of that water as soon as possible.

Salmryn climbed up the wall, his fingers and toes holding him tight, yet tenuously on the wall against the current, which was flowed with more violence.

At last, he pulled himself up; his head popping out of the water as he coughed with the sudden transition to breathing air. Salmryn looked up and locked eyes with his dad, whose run on the embankment snapped to a stop the moment he saw his son.

"Salm!" he screamed, his look of fear brightening to a beaming smile of relief.

"It's okay, dad," Salmryn shouted, trying to lift himself out of the water.

He managed to pull his torso to the shore before hearing an ear-splitting roar behind him. Salmryn did not have time to look back, only catching his father's smiling face tighten into a shout of fear before the high wave slammed on top of him.

---------

"Well it ain't a total loss, Rod," Arlen said to his fellow barge captain.

Rod's thick, white beard heaved up as he gave a pained grimace, his boots planted in the muddy grass and his burly arms crossed as he looked at the mess in front of him.

His stringy partner Arlen stood on the deck of their trade barge, which half an hour ago was floating down the Surbrin after picking up its usual load in Silverymoon. A flash flood later, the bow was digging into the stone and grass embankment and the forward hull caved in against the ledge. A few more cracks were visible in the lower hull, though the rest was spared any more damage.

Arlen disappeared into the cargo hold, emerging a minute later with four large cases Rod knew from the inventory sheet contained elven-made swords. Arlen leaned over and handed each case to his partner, who laid them side by side on the ground. Rod ran a finger along the covers and breathing a sigh or relief; the wax and leather seals on each case, reinforced with magic, had not broken and remained intact.

"Guess you're right," Rod said with another heavy sigh. "We'll see about those axes, though I recall we put those in the back; they should be fine though I ain't takin' any chances."

"Gotta tell the company in Everlund they ain't gettin' their stuff until tomorrow," Arlen said, cautiously walking along the deck and only finding a few loose boards.

"We gotta be in Sundabar by sixthday," Rod said, walking closer to the barge. "Think this wreck's salvageable?"

Arlen stopped and looked over the side at the hull, wincing at the sight of the now calm river pouring into the hull. His eyes trailed into the water, seeing the hole ended at the middle of the hull; a good sign, though that one case broken open against the rocks and mid-sized blue stones spilling onto the river bottom.

"Aw geez," Arlen said, knowing the case contained spell stones; stones magically primed for storing any spell like a scroll. "Maybe if we push it."

Arlen looked back into the water at the scattered spell-stones and at the blue-skinned creature swimming up to the barge and picking up a stone. Arlen's eyes went wide as he eyed the creature that was about the size of a halfling maybe larger. The thing had what looked like a mass of green hair with scales reflecting in the light along its arms and back.

"Rod," Arlen shouted, pointing down at the creature in the water and grabbing his sword if it decided to leap up and attack.

"By Bane's left nut," Rod shouted, running over and drawing his rapier.

The creature's face turned up, a pair of shining purple eyes with slitted pupils looking up at them before the creature swam up.

Arlen drew his own rapier and both readied themselves for a fight. The creature grabbed a loose board from the hull and bobbed up, showing a creature who looked more like a young boy than a monster.

"Don't worry, I haven't gotten all my big teeth in, so I can't bite you that hard," the creature said with a laugh.

Rod and Arlen immediately relaxed and sheathed their swords.

"Well hello, little feller," Rod said. "Ya live in this river."

"Nah," Salmryn said, still trying to catch his breath after the wild ride he just had. "Too rough, besides my mom and dad don't want me in here anyway. I was just helping my dad get rid of some goblins when the flash flood hit."

"Oh, that's all," Rod said. "What are ya anyway."

"I'm a water genasi, so I can breathe under the water," Salmryn said. "And it looks like you need my help since I see some of your cargo is stuck in the rocks."

Arlen and Rod looked at each other; maybe they had a new opportunity to get out of there faster than they thought, though doubt was clear on both their faces.

"How old are ya, lad," Arlen said.

"I'm seven and a half, but I can lift rocks and logs and stuff," Salmryn said.

"I don't know," Arlen said, "ya sure your papa won't mind ya workin' with strangers."

"I think after what we just came out of, he won't care at all," Salmryn said. "Besides, he'll be here in a few minutes and if he thought I was in danger well…I wouldn't want to be the one hurting me."

"Works for me," Rod said with a laugh. "I've had a bunch a boys yer age, so I know how do deal with you."

"Great, now I'm going to see if I can help you with those spell stones," Salmryn said, ducking below the water.

Adrenaline still coursed through his veins as he swiftly swam under the water, finding handholds on side boards of the barge to keep him steady though the river had significantly calmed after the flash flood.

Salmryn had been swept away, helpless to the rising water as it coursed over him. After a few seconds of freely floating, he found the one stream of a calmer current on which to ride. Using the calmer current he had ducked under the water and managed to swim and ride out the wave. He gradually found his way to the side wall and, after a few painful bumps, managed to brace himself in place to let the wave pass.

When the current subsided, he slowly floated along and gradually came to the wreckage of a barge caught in the flood.

He carefully picked up a stone, feeling its weight and noting only the slight essence of magic, proving they were indeed empty spell stones. Mom and dad gave him ample warning about magic items, though he needed little lecturing the one day when he was six that he decided to pick up dad's panther figurine.

He thought he knew what to expect when he held the figurine and said the name of dad's panther companion Guenwhyvar, though the swirling mist and the sudden appearance of the huge animal right in front of him licking its whiskers.

Dad didn't need to punish him for playing with his important items; he just needed to give him a calm lecture while Salmryn cleared his last tears of fright. Salmryn had learned a lesson that day, though a lesson that included learning how gentle Guen could be when he let her sniff his hand to get his scent as dad told her Salmryn was a friend.

Regardless of the positive outcome, Salmryn had learned his lesson. The fact he could sense minor amounts of magic also helped him, as he knew the weak essence these stones gave made them safe to pick up. He gathered six of them in one arm before leaping upward.

A pair of burly arms from one of the barge captains, the one called Rod to be exact, ducked down into the water with an empty sack, into which Salmryn dropped the stones before swimming back down to gather more.

He collected six more as three quarters of the stones were now off the river floor, leaping up again and seeing the upturned sack ready for him. He deposited the stones before hearing a shouting voice above the river's hum.

Salmryn's legs kicked up harder, bringing his head above the water and seeing his dad running along the embankment and screaming his name.

"Dad, right here," Salmryn shouted, swimming closer to shore before Rod's hands gently lifted him from the water and plopped him onto the side of the river.

"Salm," Drizzt screamed, breathing a few heaving sighs of relief including the words "thank you, Mielikki," and looking like he could fall forward any time.

Salmryn grabbed a handhold on the ledge before practically running up the rocks and into his dad's awaiting arms. Drizzt locked him in a tight hug, letting out a sob of relief and savoring the feel of his son's wiry arms around his body.

He wanted to be angry at him for putting himself in danger like that; acting so recklessly just to prove himself though he was a small boy…whose plan worked, if only by sheer luck..

"I'm ok dad," Salm said, his tone light and happy. "I managed to swim through the flood, just bumped my knee a few times and my arm kinda hurts, but it's going away. I found this barge and thought I'd help."

Drizzt gave a relieved laugh. Regardless of what he had done against his parents' wishes, he had in his arms now; bubbly and unhurt despite all he had been through. Drizzt slowly released his son and looked at Rod and Arlen, two barge captains he had spoken with many times in his travels by the Surbrin and two men he knew to be reputable, dedicated workers.

He knew Salmryn had never encountered them before, making a part of him want to scold him for talking with strangers since he was so young, though that thought was more muted than it would be under any other situation.

The men stared at them, in hollow perplexity. Drizzt was hardly a stranger to them both, though here he was now covered in cuts and nicks in his armor lovingly embracing a strange little water creature they had just encountered.

"Well met, Master Do'Urden," Arlen said, stepping off the barge with confused grin. "This is your boy?"

"This is my little devil," Drizzt said with a clearing laugh, tousling his son's wet hair even more.

"Well he's been a big help to us," Rod said with a laugh, his confusion breaking. "Barge broke with that flashflood and he's been helpin' us pick up some lost cargo."

Drizzt gave a laugh. He gets chased by goblins, caught in a flashflood, and still found the energy to help out a few people in need. Maybe his actions were better rewarded than punished, though that would all have to be seen.

"Is that so," Drizzt said, looking down at Salmryn. Salmryn looked up at him, noting his somewhat scolding tone and remembering all the things he had done that he knew dad would not be happy with. "Then perhaps he ought to help you a bit more, and maybe I could be of some help as well."

"We're glad to have ya both," Arlen said, looking at his partner and exchanging nods.

Salmryn looked up at his father with beaming eyes. Drizzt lightly pushed him forward and the boy was soon running toward the river.

"Ya got a heck of a boy there," Arlen said, watching Salmryn wade back into the river.

"Indeed," Drizzt said with a smile, watching Rod lower the bag into the water.

------------

Dusk had settled, though Drizzt could see the outline of a large, full moon peaking from the top of the city wall.

Drizzt sat and watched the moonrise with calm glee, savoring the silver light that slowly bathed the trees and buildings of Silverymoon before emerging fully from behind the city's outer wall.

He gave a sigh, leaning further back on the small stoop in the back of his cottage and letting his arms support his weight as he got a gorgeous view of the white and pink clouds. The storm clouds had at last parted and the moon emerged triumphant; a moment that brought his mind back to the triumph he was living now.

The creaking on the stoop signaled another one of his victories had just come out to join him and, judging by the aroma wafting from the open back door, was making a fresh pot of coffee.

Drizzt lazily looked up, meeting the smiling eyes of his wife, who leaned down and handed him a blue porcelain mug filled with the steaming contents. He slowly twisted around and grabbed the handle; a soft finger rubbing his for a blissful moment as Catti-brie sat down beside him with her own mug.

It was blissful quiet that had become more common than not in their small home; a peace with the extra contribution of hearing the rustle of sheets in the nearby room and a happy sigh from the little boy who had just been put to bed.

"I swear he just didn't want to go to bed," Catti-brie said with a laugh. "All he kept talking about was that flood."

"We have a lively one, most definitely," Drizzt said with a laugh. "He didn't stop talking about it all through dinner. I'm just glad to see that last incident with the goblin has not startled him too much"

"I think he had his first real adventure," Catti-brie said with a smile, taking a sip from her mug.

"And his first kill," Drizzt said with a grimace, sipping the pungent contents of his cup. Despite the weight of that statement, the recollection of those wide purple eyes as their owner described the experience with glee and not fear put a smile on his face.

A part of him wanted to be mad at the boy; he drew the attention of a mass of goblins in the middle of battle and jumped into the river with a dangerous current. Adding to that, he spoke with and agreed to do work for two complete strangers who could have been slave traders or killers.

Drizzt's momentary grimace told Catti-brie all she needed to know.

"You think he should be punished?" Catti-brie said. "He went against so many of our orders and warnings."

Drizzt gave a hard sigh.

"But you don't want to," Catti-brie continued.

"A part of me wants to think it was luck," Drizzt said. "That same part that wants me to think he was just being the proverbial idiot kid who could have gotten himself badly hurt."

"Though you're thinking you could have gotten yourself badly hurt same as him," Catti-brie said. "Though you're bigger and smarter."

Drizzt laughed at the truth of the words.

"I believe he knew what he was doing," Drizzt said. "But he's seven-years-old."

"And how old were you again when you picked up a sword?"

"That's different. I was fifteen, much older than him."

"In elf years. I don't think at fifteen you were much older than him at all."

Drizzt shrugged. He was not much older than Salm though he knew he was probably closer to ten in human maturity. Salmryn was still a small boy, although a clever one.

"He had gotten over his fear, though," Drizzt said. "It pains me to remember all the times after that orc attack he would hear thunder and start screaming and running all over the Hall."

"Well we did get him out of the Hall since it ain't the best place for a small boy," Catti-brie said, momentarily reverting to the dwarven accent she had mostly abandoned. "We knew that, especially with all those side orc tribes wandering around wanting to kill everything insight. I think we made the best decision in coming to Silverymoon and I think Sam has been better for it. He can be a boy here; he couldn't living in the Hall. Maybe now he's gotten more daring."

"I do think he's growing up too fast," Drizzt said. "What did he say over dinner, 'I'm almost eight, that makes me a man now.' I am infinitely glad he has overcome that day when he was four, though what is he going to do next?"

"How about learn to fend for himself a little, just like you've been teaching him," Catti-brie said. "He helped with those goblins and you two did work together in pushing that barge back to the city dock."

Drizzt gave her a puzzled look, though his train of thought was broken by a soft voice in the other room that should have been silenced by sleep.

"You have been looking at my horde, haven't you, Palarandusk," Salmryn's voice said from the other room, taking a lower tone to mimic the voice of a villain.

"I would not have my horde looked at by a horrible Red like you, Hoondahrr," Salmryn continued, or likely the other wooden dragon in his hand, a fact illustrated by the light snaps of two colliding pieces and the occasional "raaaawr" coming from the boy.

Catti-brie gave a pained laugh with a smile. "I knew he wasn't going to stay asleep," she said.

"Should we be mad at Fret for giving him that set," Drizzt said, hearing a few more oaths of vengeance from a third dragon in the other room.

"It's very educational," Catti-brie said with a laugh. "Those are all known dragons. Maybe if he actually meets Palarandusk the Unseen Protector he will know a bit more about him."

"Though I think that little information scroll he got with those figurines is not being carefully read," Drizzt said.

"You are outnumbered, Red, for my friend Ilnezhara will claw at you next," the voice in the next room said. "And she's bringing her sister, the mighty Tazmikella. Raaawwwwr."

"He can pronounce the names," Catti-brie said with a chuckle. "He is indeed bright, we can at least give him that much."

"And disobeying us again," Drizzt said with a calm, yet pointed look.

"And finding his own strengths at such a young age," Catti-brie said. "I don't think we should be punishing that."

"So we should give him a sword and tell him to travel to the Hall by himself tomorrow while we take the trade wagon," Drizzt said with a bit more force than he intended.

"Maybe you are on to something," Catti-brie said. "He has already taken out one goblin with a knife and no training. Maybe the time is right to teach him how to use a sword. I'm not suggesting giving him one right away, though the wood carver by the castle has some mighty nice wooden practice swords. We can teach him some techniques until he is old enough."

Drizzt shrugged at the suggestion, sipping his coffee and staring at the grass in contemplation. There was truth in her words, though Salmryn was still only seven.

"And you still don't want to see him grow up too fast," Catti-brie said, reading his mind once again.

"I was scrubbing floors in rags when I was his age," Drizzt said. "Occasionally my sister Briza would walk by and lash at me with that damn whip of hers because she was in a particularly good mood. A seven-year-old boy not having to worry about how clean the floors were and actually being allowed to play with his toy dragons; it was unthinkable. I went right from being a peon to a soldier-in-training, there was no peace for me and the last thing I want is for that fate to befall Salmryn. He isn't going to be a boy much longer. The last thing I want to do is hasten that."

"But are we to pull him back, punish him for having dreams instead of encouraging him." Catti-brie said. "He is already going down that road, maybe it would be best if we guided him and not held him."

Drizzt gave his wife a defeated look, which was returned with a wicked smile.

"You don't want to lose that little creature you fell in love with the first time you laid eyes on him," she said. "You don't want him goin' away from you that fast."

Drizzt laughed, struck by the truth of her words; though he heard a small bit of understandable sadness in her tone.

"And you don't want to have him grow up too fast as well," Drizzt said.

"I do like having a little creature around," she said, with a sigh. "I'll be honest with you; it scares me to see him pick up a sword too, though maybe it's for the best."

The two locked eyes, Drizzt reading her soul; the soul of a woman going into her later years where the likelihood of having their own little one was dwindling. It was a thought that broke Drizzt's heart; the night Salmryn was pulled from his body, the night he felt death upon him, they swore they would have many children if he lived.

The hope lingered a year ago when Catti-brie missed her monthly bleed and woke with nausea. A cleric confirmed their happiness, though it was happiness cut short one month and one miscarriage later. She swore she would be fine, though Drizzt knew she looked at Salmryn more lovingly after that day.

When Drizzt went about his normal duties outside the city walls and when he traveled to Mithral Hall to help Bruenor weed out the last of the renegade tribes, Catti-brie almost always insisted on staying behind in Silverymoon with Salmryn. Drizzt knew, however, he had taken the habit of going off with hardly any notice, expecting her to care for the son he bore himself.

The there was the cruel reality that gave him more pangs of guilt; through a sheer miracle he was able to birth a child. Catti-brie was now taking care of a boy who was birthed by her husband, though she herself was not able to carry a baby.

"We'll try as many times as we need to," Drizzt said softly. "Alustriel knows many clerics who can help."

"I know we will," Catti-brie said, though a part of her was not entirely convinced.

"Taste my fire, you Gold idiot," the voice said in the next room.

Drizzt and Catti-brie both laughed, clearing the sudden tension and sadness though both gave each other a lingering glance.

Drizzt rose, walking through the back door and into the small cottage the family shared on the outskirts of the main city. Alustriel had the cottage built just for the small family when Drizzt and Catti-brie expressed interest in having a temporary home in Silverymoon. Alustriel insisted they live there for no rent or charge, though Drizzt threw a gold piece into the Church of Mystra's collection box once a month as some recompense for her huge generosity.

He walked through the small kitchen and to the door of his son's room, gently pushing it open to reveal a small lamp lit on the oak dresser and a large mound under the covers where a small boy made his dragons fly around. The shapes of arms under the covers suddenly froze in place at the sound of footsteps.

A mass of green hair and one purple eye peaked out from a corner of the covers and regarded the adult in the room standing in front of him with arms crossed though bearing a stiff smile.

"Oh no," Salmryn said, using the deep tone for the villainous red dragon. "It's Drizzt Do'Urden, the hero of the land. I am doomed."

Drizzt chuckled before loosely coming to a battle stance with a look of exaggerated determination. He put his hands to his sides in his usual crossdraw, slowly whipping out his two pointed index fingers.

"Your days are numbered villain," Drizzt said in a playfully dark tone as he poked his fingers at the now-visible red dragon figurine, producing a series of soft screeches from the dragon, or the boy playing the dragon.

"Ah, I am killed," Salmryn said, turning the figuring upside down and dropping it on the floor.

"Aha, victory for the just," Drizzt said with a laugh, sneaking his fingers underneath his son's arms and tickling him.

Salmryn gave a light scream that erupted into a mass of giggles as he flopped on the bed.

Drizzt withdrew his hands and gently slid the covers back over him before snatching the dragon from the floor.

"Okay, dragon slayer, we have to get up early tomorrow so we can see grandpa," Drizzt said, reaching for the oil lamp and turning the small knob on the side to let the flame diminish.

"'Night dad," Salmryn said, briefly flinching his face aside as his dad bent give him a light kiss on the cheek.

Salmryn turned over on his side and a few quiet breaths later he was asleep. All the excitement of the day must have worn him out at last.

Drizzt gazed at his son for a moment, noting the form under the covers was much bigger than that tiny baby he held for the first time almost eight years ago.

He looked down at the finely-carved and painted model of a red dragon before placing it carefully on the dresser with a few rocks and bones his boy had collected in his travels.

Salmryn was growing fast, he thought with a sigh; maybe it was best to guide that growth and not mourn the loss of the smallness.

---------

Salmryn's eyes went wide, his mouth slightly dropping open in both excitement and perplexity.

He sat back in the kitchen chair, one small hand on the table as he regarded the pale wooden object in his father's ebony hands; an object with she shape of a blade and hilt like a sword yet was clearly wooden.

Salmryn looked up at his mother, who regarded him with a sly smile as she held up a similar "sword."

"What are those," Salmryn asked.

"They are practice swords," his dad said. "Your mother and I were talking last night about your little adventure yesterday."

Salmryn shifted uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly remembering that mom and dad never talked about punishing him for going against their warnings which made him think he was clear of trouble.

"You went in the river, got involved in a dangerous fight, and talked to adults you didn't know," his father continued. "Though you acted very bravely yesterday, Salm, and you helped many people with what you did. We feel it would not be good to make you do extra chores or sit in your room without your toys after how brave you were. Instead we want you to know such heroism cannot be done without discipline, and we know you are better off learning how to protect yourself. Your mother and I talked and we decided we will teach you how to use a sword."

Salmryn's eyes went wide and he gave an amazed gasp.

"Yes!" he cried, throwing his hands in the air with a huge grin that showed off the small stump of an adult eyetooth growing in where the little one was lost.

"However," his father continued. "We will only teach you with these practice swords; they can do no real damage, meaning you cannot use them against anyone; even foes who come after us so they are for practice only. We will only use them with the understanding that they will be kept in a safe place and only mom or dad can get hold of them when we are ready to practice. If you act out or disobey us, we will not practice until you have learned your lesson. Now is this clear?"

Salmryn sat still as his face became serious, showing he had heard every word his dad had said.

"Yes, I understand," Salmryn said with a nod.

"We'll bring them out when we get to Mithral Hall, and then we can start practicing," his mother added. "Your dad or I will use one sword and you will use the other and you have to follow our directions."

Salmryn nodded, eyeing the swords in their hands in anticipation. Drizzt handed the sword in his hand to Salmryn, who cautiously took it by the handle and slowly waved it. The sword was small, not as long as mom or dad's swords; the perfect size for a kid and light in his hand.

Drizzt looked at his son waving the sword like a young warrior getting used to the weight of his weapon; it was indeed a momentous occasion for his boy.

He didn't know whether to smile or weep.


	9. Part 9: 1392

**Legend of the Phoenix Brothers**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

Author's Note: In this chapter, I kind of tweaked a plot aspect from "Siren's Cry" to better fit the storyline. In "Siren's Cry," Seamus and Mikus Norey were both described as priests of Shandakul. After doing more research on Forgotten Realms deities and taking at least one suggestion, I realized their character concepts would more likely have them as priests of Valkur, so I made the change in this chapter.

This chapter also contains a description of recreational drug use that neither promotes, condones, nor condemns he practice. Reader discretion is advised.

**Part 9**

**26 of Hammer, 1392 DR The Year of Elven Promises**

**Waterdeep**

"We live in wicked times, good sir," the missionary said, his curly, graying brown hair bobbing a bit as he nodded his head with passion for his own words, or at least listening to himself speak. "Innocence is becoming a foreign concept while greedy and wicked men take power and rule with iron fists. The threat of evil, that which is demonic and that which is truly unholy, no longer worries people though its icy hands linger; Red Wizards have gained more control of Waterdeep while the Zhentarim infiltrate this land more. It is best to understand the nature of goodness, that can push these wicked men back to their holes, cleanse the poison from our lands."

Khallis gave a profound blink, leaning back in his chair with a blank expression. His eyes trailed from the man's slightly wrinkled face and the red stoll under his semi-normal looking gray overcoat.

"There is good news for average men like you and me, sir," the preacher continued. "The light of morning is coming, the Deliverance is at hand. Lathander is ever our friend, our brother, our advocate against the wickedness threatening us always. To know his sunlight in your heart is to truly be blessed. I cannot tell you enough, brother, about what the light of Lathander has done for my life, though I can only ask for you to open your heart to him."

The man handed a folded paper to Khallis, who felt no magic; only the ink from a picture of Lathander with outstretched arms and surrounded by dogmatic writings. Khallis looked down at it thoughtfully and gave a warm smile.

"Thank you, sir, for sharing this wonderful news with me," Khallis said, looking into the man's face. "I too fear the increasing spread of wickedness for it infringes on my own power."

The missionary's beaming smile quickly relaxed. Khallis leaned in closer, his cold black eyes boring through the stranger as his smile took more of an edge.

"Just between you and me, I have forever been looking for another tool for supreme power," Khallis said in a lower tone. "Tell me, friend, can Lathander be summoned to disembowel my enemies? I am getting rather tired of summoning demons and want something a little more…effective."

"I beg your pardon sir," the missionary sneered. "The power of Lathander defeats wicked men…"

"See, that's the thing, the whole 'being wicked' thing is a little old and not as much of a method of power as everyone says it is," Khallis said. "In fact, I have summoned countless demons and every one of them does not like to cooperate. Black magic also loses its edge after a while, so I think I need to try another method to smite my enemies; who, I assure you, are all wicked men…or at least they probably are."

"_Rivil_," a voice hissed from behind the preacher. "_Veluss zhah udossta abbil_!"

"Oh no, I tried to keep him distracted but he comes this way again," Khallis said to the missionary, rolling his eyes and trying to keep from smiling. His roommate must have approached at the right time of the conversation and decided to contribute some harsh words of Low Drow, though Khallis knew all he said was "Human, who is our friend?"

The preacher's eyes grew wide before he slowly turned behind him to meet a pair of purple eyes with vertical pupils. The newcomer's wild hair was a bright green and his blue-black skin bore scales. The missionary gave a yelp and his eyes and jaw flew open.

"The pathetic result of a ritual," Khallis continued to the man. "I tried to summon a slime demon, I get him. One word of advice; if you ever cast a circle, watch how you draw the runes. I suggest you scoot along, good sir, he has this bizarre taste for human flesh. Very disconcerting, though he is capable of being social. Hence why I brought him here, to further learn manners, though I would not want to chance it."

Salmryn stared at the man, reaching up and taking a large, sloppy bite of the short link of deer sausage in his hand, revealing slightly pointed teeth and letting juices ooze down his chin. The missionary gave a few more whimpers at the sight and Khallis bit his lower lip to keep from laughing.

"Could you move along, I'm trying to have a conversation here," Khallis said to Salmryn before turning to the missionary. "I'm so sorry about this, good sir. I believe it is only fitting I give a donation to your church. Would you pardon me for a moment?"

Khallis gave Salmryn an eye roll before rummaging through his purse for a copper or at least a button he could give to the priest.

The missionary looked like he was about to protest, though stood frozen; trying to look around though could not take his eyes off the creature in front of him.

Salmryn stared at him, a hungry look on his face. He shoved the tiny bit of his sausage into his mouth and sloppily chewed it before swallowing and licking his lips with a pointed tongue. The missionary flinched away and shivered before looking at him again with a nervous smile.

"How's it goin'," Salmryn quietly hissed.

The missionary gave another yelp and clutched his holy symbol, spinning on his heel and walking away as he pushed past the other bar patrons, who reacted in laughter or protest. He looked back once and tripped over his feet before practically running out the door.

"That was mean," Salmryn said in a semi-remorseful tone, a wide smile on his face as he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

"That was deserved," Khallis said, eying the tiny, green tin his roommate palmed in the same hand that clutched a mug handle. "He should have been tossed out of here for harassing patrons with his self-smirking nonsense."

"Well the innkeeper takes hospitality as his creed and wouldn't kick a man out easily," Salmryn replied, taking his seat next to the human.

Khallis casually eyed the rest of the small, dingy bar with a cocked brow. On the outside it appeared to be another unscrupulous hole close to the Docks Ward with a small clientele of sailors and local wanderers who minded their own respective businesses. He had been in far nastier establishments, though was intrigued that his friend had chosen this place for a relaxing evening; intrigued but not entirely surprised.

He knew Sam had been a sailor and had probably chosen this place as a watering hole whenever he came into the Port of Waterdeep. They probably knew him here, one factor that Khallis would have to explore later.

Salmryn slyly put the small tin on the table and slid it over to Khallis, who eyed it with a smirk before grabbing it. Khallis took a casual sweep of the rest of the bar, seeing no one taking any interest in the tiny table in the far back corner of the tavern by the alcove. They were nicely tucked away and barely visible to anyone, though he didn't want to take any chances.

Khallis examined the tin, which had an embossed logo for the Halthian Tea Traders of Athkatla though knew this container did not hold any tea. He carefully pried the cover off; a sweet, earthy smell wafting up from the bluish leaf inside.

He tapped a gold ring against the tin's opening, seeing no green glow of lethal poison and a slight purple glow of high reactive content of another nature. Khallis then put a finger in the contents, a few specks of the dried leaves sticking to his finger for him to sniff and feel.

"Try not to look a gift horse up the ass too much, Khal-pash," Salmryn said, sipping his full mug of ale.

"I only want to understand the gift a bit more," Khallis whispered, giving a casual glance to see the burly, surprisingly neat sailor Sam was transacting with earlier was now walking out the door. "This is Chultan incense; do you know how hard this particular variety green-leaf is to come by?"

"Only if you lack a good vendor," Salmryn replied with a smirk behind hid glass.

Khallis nodded, a few more questions forming in his mind about his roommate who was still a mystery to him in so many ways.

Less then a tenday after the sparring match that reunited them after their original meeting in Calimport two years earlier, Sam and Khallis were instant friends. The day after they locked swords, they passed each other on the pathway and the conversation they struck up never seemed to end. Outside school and each of their respective businesses, the two were constant companions with their mutual earth genasi friend Akaro making the third component of the rather odd group.

Sam was Khallis' perfect foil; matching his perpetual caution and uptight tendencies with unrelenting recklessness and a smile and obscene joke for everything. Akaro rounded out their troupe with his humored bluntness matching both of them and playing off both of their differing personalities.

When the three weren't in class, they would meet on the school lawn to play together, gather in the common room of Akaro's boarding house or in Khallis' apartment for music or just conversation, or would go tavern hopping and see how much trouble they could get into in one night.

For Khallis it was like old times; the times he would find a few hours to pull away from business and meet Akaro and Ranhar for a night of music and plain talk. Ranhar's death was like a knife in his chest and Akaro's departure for Waterdeep was pouring salt in the wounds. He would not have that light camaraderie again in Calimport; his father was only social to a point and he could trust no one else.

In Waterdeep he could have that again; he was back with Akaro and had Sam to banter off now.

However, Akaro's life was an open book to him; the son of two honest blacksmiths, a human mother and an earth genasi father who was also a cleric of Gond. Akaro became a hiresword like his human brother at a young age, though music took a stronger pull on him than fighting. He didn't hide his origins, though he did not speak of them at length.

Sam, however, was a complete mystery to him. Even in their hours of cavorting, Sam only told of his origins in quick references. He got hints Sam was raised somewhere in a rugged territory, likely the North by some of his descriptions, where adventurers were plentiful and his family lived by the sword in some way. There were no hints to the origins of his aquatic heritage, in fact his guardians, from his occasional stories, sounded like human landlubbers and not sailors.

Every time Sam made a crack about the "nut-shriveling cold" in Luskan in the dead of winter or how Silverymoon had the "nicest jail in Faerûn," Khallis was making mental notes about his friend, though it only brought up more questions and not many answers.

Khallis took another look at the loose green-leaf inside the tin and did another careful scan of the room while reaching in his pouch for a certain pipe he only used for specific herbs such as this.

"Yeah everyone here is an undercover guardsman," Salmryn muttered, taking another sip of his ale and trying to look casual as he anxiously awaited Khallis to finish the job.

Khallis drew the black, ivory pipe, a smaller one than the one he used on a regular basis, though with a curved stem and a deep bowl. He took a pinch of the green-leaf from the tin, packing it in the bowl and dusting off any excess into the tin. Khallis took a tindertwig from his pouch, struck it on the table, and lit the contents with a brief, yet deep draw.

His tense muscles immediately relaxed and a feeling of calm came over him, the kind of calm that typically came with several glasses of some spirit though not enough to bring stupor. Khallis blew out a long stream with a happy smile.

"You are my hero," he said looking at his smiling roommate.

Salmryn casually reached forward and took the pipe, putting it to his lips and taking a deep inhalation. He held the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds before slowly exhaling and gently slumping back in his chair.

"That's some fine shit," Sam whispered with a giggle.

Khallis rolled his eyes and took the pipe back.

"This is a rich herb to be enjoyed, not sucked up," he said, taking his own light draw and letting the pale white smoke drift past his lips. "The goal is to relax not bake one's brain."

"Well in that case I say we put this fire out, go home before either of us gets too happy, and light up ze hookah, mine pasha," Salmryn said, his last words taking an exaggerated Calishite accent.

Salmryn took the pipe back, wishing he was sitting on a pillow and partaking in their once-a-tenday herbal refreshment from the small glass hookah Khallis brought from Calimport.

He took another long draw, holding the smoke for a moment before blowing a series of small and large smoke rings and feeling much more relaxed. He handed the pipe back to his roommate and swore he saw a longing nod in response.

Khallis would have rather been in their Castle Ward apartment on his plush couch enjoying the pungent herb with Sam as they had done every tenday since Sam moved in two months ago.

Khallis had a few different hiding places in Waterdeep, though Sam, from what he had gathered, had only one place of residence; a modest, yet comfortable apartment in the Trades Ward. Sam, however, had made the mistake of allowing his last lover, an insufferable gold elf named Halein, stay too long at his apartment and the snotty elf eventually took it over.

Halein was back in Evermeet, from what Khallis gathered from the few sources in the seedier parts of Waterdeep he kept strictly for information purposes. Khallis had connected with a few of his regular contacts shortly after his arrival in the city, only the ones who could provide general information as he made it clear to all parties he was in town for pleasure and not business.

His sources knew the name Halein Laesnoral well; he was indeed an heir to Evermeet nobility, his father Saeval, the Duke of Risalthia, was a former ambassador to Waterdeep who now ran a trade company out of Leuthilspar. Halein was sent to Waterdeep as a liaison to learn the ropes of the business, possibly to get off his gilded couch and actually be useful for something. It was his vices, however, that made him more well known among the salt of Waterdeep than his cushy position.

A month after Halein drunkenly locked swords with him, Khallis learned from his contacts that Saeval dragged his son back to Evermeet after learning of his indiscretions. Engaging in relations with a male water genasi sailor in a tool shed would have been normal to daddy compared to some of the other stuff he pulled. Allegedly Halein bragged to anyone who listened about the allowance of 50,000 gold pieces a month he received from back home. Rumor had it that he would blow all of it on not only expensive trinkets but also prostitutes, gambling, and every drug known to Waterdeep.

As for how Saeval learned of junior's bad behavior, Sam coyly admitted to playing that role. He made a passing reference to a scroll sent through the general message portal at Castle Waterdeep addressed to the duke with some story about Halein snorting mind dust off the naked body of a half-drow. It was enough to cue father-dearest that his boy was not using his time wisely and the cards fell into play from there. Whether the story was true or not, Sam wasn't saying but his purpose was accomplished: he had his apartment back for at least one peaceful tenday.

Unfortunately Sam learned quickly his humble home was not so humble in the ledgers of Halein's many shady debtors. Saeval allegedly paid off the many thousands of gold pieces in debt his son had to various gambling houses and bookmakers, though had no idea of some of the even less reputable fellows Halein owed money to and knew where he spent most of his time.

A little over a tenday after Halein was dragged back to Evermeet, Salmryn would return home and see men lurking in the shadows right outside the front door of the normally reputable building with weapons ready. He always managed to slip past the pursuers, though this was becoming more of a challenge, especially with the threatening notes slipped under his door and the occasional head of a small animal hanging from a noose on his door knob.

After dealing with this for nearly a tenday, he crashed on the couches and spare beds of several friends while he spoke with his own contacts about getting the goons away from his space. It was times like this he often wished he could just sit somewhere and take a four hour nap like his father instead of the at least seven hours of full sleep he needed each day.

Salmryn slept on the floor in Akaro's tiny room for a tenday until the landlord told him he didn't want anyone staying for too long who wasn't paying rent. The landlord was a kind man, a Gondish blacksmith like Akaro, though also a practical and wary house owner who had been through too many partiers and seedy characters staying at his boarding house.

Unfortunately there were no empty rooms left for at least a few months, decent apartments in Waterdeep were hard to come by, and there would be no dormitory rooms open at New Olamn until the next graduation in three months.

Salmryn managed to speak to a few friends who owed him a few favors and got many of the ruffians away from his apartment, though still needed a place to stay in the meantime. He had no idea his perpetually paranoid buddy Khallis would approach him about staying at his nice apartment in the Castle Ward.

Khallis heard of Sam's plight from Akaro as well as his own contacts. He did hear several bookmakers and drug dealers were searching for the elf around his apartment, though there was never any mention of Sam or a water genasi, indicating Sam was safe from the fray and would not bring his mess into Khallis' apartment. His apartment was hardly a royal suite, though it had two bedrooms and more than enough room for two people to live in relative privacy.

That was nearly two months ago. The goons stopped caring about Halein, but the lease on his old place had already expired. After two months, the two had grown quite comfortable to each other's presence and only used their individual rooms for their respective sleep and quiet studying, a development that still surprised Khallis.

They had too much in common, he reasoned, from their respective family angst to their natural cynicism. The fact both had a mild enthusiasm for certain aromatics was another factor. Khallis, however, usually partook in green-leaf as a means of occasional relaxation while, not being a complete drug fiend, he suspected Sam may have had a history of experimentation. He may not have known much about his background, though Sam made more references to substances he had tried than to his family.

"You see, I would love more than anything to just kick back at home where it's warm and the ale's a lot better," Khallis said, "however that cannot happen tonight, for the same reason that when our night of fun is over and we return home, you will have to take this tin and hide it among your effects."

Sam cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, noting how Khallis took a bit of a deeper draw of the weed than he had been.

"Care to inform me as to why?" Sam asked.

"I'd tell you now, but I'm afraid the information will get lost in the cloud considering how you've been smoking that tonight," Khallis said, pointing to the pipe in his hand that was soon snatched by his roommate.

"I'm not a complete lightweight," Sam said with a laugh, taking a luxurious draw to prove his point. "I swear I'll remember, or else you will just have to remind me later. So, why are we playing hide the weed? You got a date with someone respectable?"

"In a way yes," Khallis said. "My father's coming in two days; I got a letter from him yesterday addressed from Baldur's Gate so he's not that far from here. Our business is expanding to include a few trade ventures and he's meeting with a few potential clients in Waterdeep."

"So he said while he was in town he would invade your space for the requisite parental inspection," Salmryn said, handing the pipe to Khallis knowing he would probably need it.

"I've been expecting this; he told me as much when I left Calimport that if he did visit Waterdeep, I would have to be available for at least a few hours," Khallis said, taking the pipe and only having a shallow draw as if to demonstrate he was indeed calm. "He's staying at an inn, doing his business for a few days and coming over before he leaves. We'll probably just hit a few taverns, maybe see a show if I have my way, he will likely update me on the books, nothing more than a few hours and nothing you have to deal with if you're not inclined."

"What if I'm inclined," Salmryn said with a grin. "What if I want to meet the man who spawned such a charming personality?"

"Your choice, but he's not the most sociable creature," Khallis said. "He can be decent enough, but he does come off as a bit of a hard ass, so to speak."

"Hence why you would rather not leave the lingering smell of incense and, if he gets nosy, I'm the weed-head not you," Salmryn said with an understanding nod.

"In so many words, yes," Khallis said.

His father was definitely aware of any type of vice he had since he had contacts in every tavern, incense den, brothel, and any other house of vice in Calimport. Occasionally he would come home to have his father make some passing remark about how easy it is to kill someone who has partaken of incense. Khallis knew to take all his comments for what they were worth; if he was truly angry with him his words would not be so calm and if he ever found him a liability there would be no words at all. To Khallis what he got was the equivalent of a parental head shake, though a clear indicator his father was keeping a close eye on him.

"Whatever works, friend," Salmryn said. "Though in the off chance any member of my family should drop by…"

"It's my leaf and you are sober as Tyr," Khallis finished with a nod.

"You're a good man."

Salmryn took the pipe back just as the tavern's door flew open and a mass of laughs and conversation came in with a press of bodies. The once-quiet room was now a mass of conversations and laughs as a group of around ten men and women came to the bar.

Salmryn and Khallis eyed the group curiously; relieved none noticed their presence and went on about their merry business. Every member of the group wore working simple attire, though the occasional striped shirt, high breeches, and rolled hat indicated this was a group of sailors. Judging by the large sacks slung over a few of their backs, it was likely this crew had just come to port.

The bartender poured a round of ale for all of them, talking to them with a smile. Khallis kept a curious eye on the group, but kept half an eye on Sam for any looks of recognition.

Salmryn did examine the group, mostly seeing unfamiliar sailors though a few faces stood out as ones he'd seen on occasion in various taverns or docks.

The door flew open again and a lanky man in a black ponytail and full, black beard walked in. His head was wrapped in a red bandanna and his attire was typical sailor's garb. The silver pendant resting against his blue shirt was in the shape of a shield which bore a cloud and three lightening bolts: clearly telling Khallis the man was a cleric of Valkur.

Salmryn shoved the pipe in Khallis hand and rose from his seat with a beaming grin as he walked over to his old friend.

"Catch any pirates, priest, or just a few irate seagulls," Sam called to the man.

The cleric looked over and his happy expression widened to gleeful surprise.

"A few seagulls tried to commandeer our lunch, you little brat," the man said, locking Sam in a huge hug which Sam returned with the same enthusiasm. "By the gods! It's so good to see ya, what you doin' in a rat hole like this?"

"Making my daily inspection, what does it look like," Sam replied.

The man tousled Sam's green hair and kept an arm around his shoulder directing him to the bar, laughs all around as the cleric brought Sam over to his own party and engaged in a conversation Khallis could not hear. Khallis tapped the smoldering leaf from the pipe and into the top of he tin it came from, using the bowl to tap out the embers as he kept a close eye on the goings on.

He really was not interested in socializing with a group of strangers tonight, though noticed how his roommate did not immediately introduce him. It hardly offended Khallis but made him more curious. His roommate seemed to have as many contacts as he did and the last thing he wanted was to squeeze in on Sam's private business if he didn't need to. The idea of solving the mystery that was Sam Qualro, or Sam Cooper, or whatever the Hells he was calling himself these days, took a bit more precedence than pure discretion.

Khallis put the remains of the burned leaf back in the tin, knowing any residuals had a little bit of strength left and the new leaf was easily separated out. He put his pipe away and collected the tin, putting it in a special extra-dimensional pocket in his vest; an extra little feature on the black vest his uncle gave him for his last birthday.

Khallis rose and took a few careful steps forward while keeping an eye on the merry making. Sam had another ale in his hand and was toasting with his old friend and the sailors. From the corner of his eye he saw an elderly man sitting at a table a foot away from him and watching the festivities with a large smile.

"Sounds like a real fest over there," Khallis said, leaning down to the old man and taking a seat at small table next to his.

"A real fest is to be had when the crew of the Hannah Mary comes to port," the man said, voice slightly slurred as the smell of rum was noticeable on his breath, though not too obvious. "Good bunch they are, traders mostly but they do their share of pirate huntin'."

"Now who's their cleric," Khallis said, seeing this one was a talker. "The tall man with the black ponytail."

"Ah, not much of a sailor are ya," the man said with a smile. "That man be Mikus Norey, fine man, fierce fighter, a lot o' sailors owe him their lives for his healin' spells. So well respected among these docks, that's how I can tell yer a landlubber other than those fine clothes ya wear."

"Guilty as charged," Khallis said with a shrug. "My friend dragged me here, the green-hared water kin with them downing that ale."

The man turned his attention from the group to give Khallis an amused look.

"Oh yer friends with little Sammy," he said. "Ye've got a good friend, ya do; he's the luckiest man to ever board a ship. Never rode with him meself, but yer friend's a walking miracle from the gods."

"Really," Khallis said. "I know he's a sailor, just never knew he was that respected."

The old sailor faced him, leaning one elbow on his table while leaning closer to Khallis.

"That young man there ain't no ordinary sailor," the man said in a tone low enough for Khallis to hear and no one else. "Ya see, Sammy ain't no ordinary water kin neither. The fact he wasn't a fanged monster rippin' men apart is why he's a miracle in the flesh."

Khallis furrowed his brows in perplexity. He knew he would hear some bizarre sea legend, but any tale about Sam could have at least some clues as to who he was.

"I don't believe my friend has told me the tale," Khallis said. "Master…"

"Moore. Alvey Moore," the man said, shaking Khallis' hand. "Been a sailor for fifty years, recently retired, and I remember the day your friend came into the world. In fact, Mikus and his uncle Seamus, The Mighty rest his soul, saved his daddy's life after he was born."

"Khallis Raen, pleasure to meet you," Khallis said, his blood pumping with this new development, "now, if it's not prying too much, why is my friend such an unusual creature and how did that relate to the circumstances of his father's brush with death? My friend is a bit mysterious in such matters."

Alvey motioned for Khallis to inch closer, which he did.

"I ain't tellin' ya anything that ain't already known by every other old sailor in Waterdeep, so don't go thinkin' yerself special," Alvey said, stroking his bushy white beard.

Khallis smiled and nodded, knowing many sailors in their sea tales could be worse gossips than most alewives. It made them great sources of rumors, but objectivity was hardly in their colorful vocabularies so Khallis knew he would have to sift through the details later.

"It's been damn near twenty years since this happened and let me tell ya it really shows yer friend's a civilized man and not a monster or else things would be very bad for ya right now," Alvey said. "Well it all started on the Bloody Tess, the nastiest lot o' pirates to curse the seas at that time. They were chased around the Sea of Swords by the Sea Sprite; now there was a fine crew o' sailors, pirate hunters the lot of them. Captain Deudermont turned the wheel over to his first mate a few years ago and is enjoying a well-earned retirement."

Khallis had heard the names of the Sea Sprite and its captain before, likely from a few pirates who traded stories on how they would kill old Deudermont. He remembered his father expressed some familiarity with it as a possible hindrance on business, though Khallis remembered the somewhat irritated look on his face when he spoke of it showing he likely had an encounter with the pirate hunters at one time that was not pleasant.

"Well, the Sea Sprite had a sailor on board, some type of elf I think he was, a damn fine man and a master of the blade," Alvey continued. "Story goes the Sea Sprite caught up with the Bloody Tess, got their blades out, got their arrows ready, but only found a pirate ship filled with the ripped corpses of all the rascals on board. The elf, a black-skinned creature I remember, boarded the ship with Seamus, his pretty wife who's a crack shot, and a few sailors. They only found alive one pirate, a nasty character he was, priest of the Storm Lord I reckon. Only now this wicked man who tortured so many sailors, who was said to have eaten a dozen men, was cowerin' in a corner; his arm eaten off as he was gibberin' about all of the crew explodin' into horrible monsters.

"Well, the things he was snivellin' about made their appearance; tall, green, nasty fiends. Their eyes bulged out of their heads, sharp teeth could tear a man's head off and claws that could turn a shield into party streamers. The black elf and the members of his team hacked into 'em killed half o' them in the course of a minute, but the beasts had their own weapon. They whip a man in his unseemlies, take a bit o' his seed afore he knows it to fertilize their monster fish egg, then they stick him in the gut. The stick don't get him but the creature growin' in his stomach will rip its way outta him and join the rest of the monsters."

Khallis remained an intent listener, but the story was sounding more ridiculous by the minute. He was at first surprised about the dark elf pirate hunter, though it was hardly unusual for a drow refugee to take work aboard a ship to make some money and learn the ways of the Surface especially if the captain was a kind and trusting man like Deudermont supposedly was. He scoured his memory banks to see if Uncle Jarlaxle had been the one to mention a kinsman aboard the Sea Sprite since he seemed to know everyone in Menzoberranzan, though he had no memory of it. His father also never mentioned any particular sailor on the ship other than the captain in the one reference he had made.

As for the rest of the story, maybe this could be used later or maybe had some airs of truth somehow.

"Well this unfortunate fate befell the elf," Alvey continued, his eyes wide and face showing he was truly wrapped with his story. "Within a few hours of fightin' the beasts, a fire burned in his belly and it started to grow like the belly of a woman with child. He knew he was a dead man, so he gave a great roar and flung himself at the creatures. He took the whole lot of them out; every one of them was in pieces by the time the monster in his belly got the best o' him. Once the monsters were dead, three hundred of them a mass of flesh after the elf's blades got done with them, the wicked pirate priest was so moved by this one man's selflessness he wanted to save his life at any cost.

"He found some scrolls, got the elf out, his wife, and Seamus, though the rest of the Sea Sprite crew who came aboard all perished. The priest got them all to a nearby island, laid the elf on his back and cut his belly open to free the creature, though all knew it was too late. But when he opened his belly, there was no monster there; it was a babe…it was your friend. By a miracle of the gods, the foul creature was a squirmin' little babe that would grow to be the man you came in here with today."

Khallis looked over at Sam, who was still exchanging some tale with the sailors. He wanted to dismiss the story as pure nonsense, though it intrigued him enough to consider the possibility.

"That is…beyond amazing," Khallis said, turning back to Alvey.

"Alas, his daddy obviously wasn't made to birth and he nearly passed to Warrior's Rest when he was carried back to the Sea Sprite," Alvey continued. "Though both Seamus and Mikus brought him back to the living and the elf would heal completely. He and his wife claimed the babe as their son and took him with them on their adventures. As for the pirate priest, it's said he was so moved by this miracle of life he would repent his wickedness, reject his evil god, and live his days as a good man."

"I'm speechless," Khallis said, knowing he had a lot of manure to sort through before even remotely finding any usable information. "Thank you so much for this story, I think I'll never see my friend the same way."

Alvey nodded and went back to his glass of rum as if Khallis wasn't there. Khallis rose from his seat and got Sam's attention long enough to wave and point toward the door, indicating he was going back to the apartment.

Sam just nodded in response and went back to his merrymaking, likely wanting his constructive time with a sailor to whom he supposedly owed so much.

Khallis tossed a few silver pieces on the bar before walking out with his thoughts.


	10. Part 10: 1392

**Legend of the Phoenix Brothers**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

**Part 10**

**28 of Hammer, 1392 DR The Year of Elven Promises**

**Waterdeep**

_Sam, _the note read.

_A small complication. Master Horanil is showing his propensity for assholatry again and assigning his poor students a huge research project due tomorrow. This is a problem since my father will arrive at the apartment around 6 o'clock and I cannot guarantee I will be home from scouring the library and writing this inartistic nonsense in time to greet him. I will owe you a major boon, Sam if you stay in the apartment awaiting his arrival and just keep him occupied until my idiotic project is complete. If the gods truly favor me, I will be finished and greet him in time, though my standing with the gods as of late has not been well, though they may smile on me long enough so I shall be home sooner rather than later._

_This may not be an easy task, but he can be patient as long as the circumstances are not to his annoyance or bane. He can tolerate casual conversation, though bring your yarting out and don't stop playing. He greatly enjoys music, though good luck getting him to admit it. And don't think you can impress him with your blade skills or your snake skin collection. Men have died over that much._

_When he arrives at the door, he will introduce himself by the surname of Ranlani, so listen for that because he will only say it once and may just mutter it. He will also casually show his signet ring and you are to look for this symbol_

Salmryn rolled his eyes every time he got to this part of the note, seeing the hastily scrawled symbol that looked like a deformed letter from the Dethek alphabet. A part of him admired the detail Khallis put in while likely in panic mode while the rest of him groaned at how completely ridiculous this all was.

All the caution was probably a necessary evil; an assassin from the Whoknowswhati Guild of deepest, darkest, smelliest Calimport could have found his home, presented himself as his father, and ritualistically eaten all those inside. He could understand his paranoia, especially just coming to Waterdeep after spending several years in the "family business."

_As for his appearance, well, let me just say there is a strong resemblance between my father and myself and you will know it when you see him._

_Remember, there is a BIG BOON involved if you help me out here._

Salmryn dropped the note on the tiny dining room table before dropping his yarting case beside the table. Yarting Theory was a hard class as usual, though it was one of his favorites, teaching him a few more skills to play with and impress more pretty boys with a thing for artistic…stuff.

He plopped himself on the luxurious suede couch and sighed. He found the note after returning from his History of the Elves class that afternoon. A part of him did suspect Khallis was feeding him a line of manure and was leaving him alone with his hard, possibly dangerous father; giving him a distraction from his son's absence or punishing a certain roommate for some crime he must have committed.

A brief conversation with one of Khallis' fellow Wizards of the North classmates, a soft spoken and dainty, yet physically adept Strongheart halfling named Leadra, revealed his suspicions were not valid.

"Master Horanil sicked that assignment on the whole class, there were quite a few mumbled curses afterward," Leadra had said as the two were passing between classes. "I recall Khallis' oaths were particularly loud the second we left the room. I think he was almost emotionally torn by the assignment."

It was all Salmryn needed to hear; Khallis hadn't made it up and in fact would rather have greeted his father with loving arms the second he walked in the room…or at least being there to appease his father and prevent any wrath for shirking his plans.

Salmryn slowly moved his muscles from his comfortable position and forced himself to a stand, walking to the tiny kitchen and opening the ice box to see if they had enough wine and snacks if "Master Ranlani" or whoever was hungry after his journey.

Salmryn was actually curious to meet the man, a thought that passed through his mind as he eyed the small wheel of cheese on the middle shelf. He had heard so many mixed reports from his roommate, some with stories involving teaching his son fishing from the banks of a small lake to smashing the face of a rival with the pommel of his sword when he didn't answer his questions quick enough for his liking. Salmryn had met and even conversed with everyone from paladins to Lolthite priestesses so he was not as intimidated as he probably should have been.

He grabbed a piece of cheese that had been cut previously and closed the box while nibbling it and looking at the small, ornate clock on the mantelpiece. It was past quarter to 6 already; Khallis was not home and his father would be along in fifteen minutes or so. Salmryn was a tad annoyed at the circumstances, not wanting to get involved with whatever complicated and unsavory business Khallis and "Master Ranlani" were into, though his adventurous side was itching already.

He jumped back on the couch and laid back, half wondering what he could expect when he opened the door. Maybe he would see a fat pasha attended by twenty servants, maybe he resembled a beggar and the signet ring would be in his alms cup, maybe he was a cleric of some kind in vestments or even wizard's robes.

The questions would soon be answered soon enough, Salmryn thought; tearing a piece off his cheese while waiting for a knock at the door.

-----------

He was known as Little Bronzy around the High Forest, a wizard who would use small brass dragons as emissaries to collect scrolls and artifacts from around the Waterdeep area. The dragons would approach a potential client with one introduction; "I bear a request from Little Bronzy."

The curious ones of the North assumed the Little Bronzy was another bronze dragon, the only creature who could convince this many powerful creatures to carry out his requests. A team of adventurers decided to seek out the mystery, traveling into the High Forest in search of Little Bronzy complete with scrying equipment.

What they found was not a dragon but a gold dwarf named Hafor, a former blacksmith from Citadel Adbar who was called to the Art and made friends with a family of bronze dragons who enjoyed merriment as much as him.

The further details on Little Bronzy were scrawled on parchment and information on the mysterious mage satisfied Khallis' rather bothersome assignment.

His pen trailed across the page, practically belching out from memory all he had read on Little Bronzy in the past hour that he spent scouring the Font of Knowledge's grand library. Khallis looked up at the water clock at the front of the room and sighing; it was already five minutes before 6.

Likely his father had already showed up at his doorstep, though he was more annoyed at the circumstances than nervous.

Khallis' father was not much of a stickler for punctuality as much as he was a stickler for being where you needed to be when you needed to be regardless of time. His father, in his usual dry wit, referred to it as acting on "assassin's time;" being there when least anticipated. Being a few minutes late if that was hardly a cause for bloodshed.

His asinine Wizards of the North class ended around 3, giving him a moment to return home and grab a quick snack before the normally grueling two hours of Verse Workshop It would have been a relief to meet with his father after the brain drain.

Master Horanil's last little assignment to write two sheets on any lesser known wizard in the Northern regions was the proverbial straw on the proverbial camel's back. All his classmates probably got the assignment done after class, one that involved all matter-of-fact prose and not verse to test their research skills, though he was not as lucky and had a father to manage on top of all that.

He put the last few sentences on the nonsense he had to write and slammed his quill onto the table in relief. He let his scrolls dry on the desk, keeping them protected under the small shelf on the desk as he rose to put away his books.

He passed by a few of the sages who had been there likely all day scouring texts for obscure knowledge. Adventurers and people who wanted their information in a hurry typically would talk to one or more of the sages and receive their answer, though Master Horanil explicitly said doing so would earn an automatic assignment fail and he would be able to find out.

He placed his books on the small, simple looking return table and watched as they vanished, reappearing in their designated places. Khallis idly looked on another desk, seeing a copy of "The Legend of the Singing Coral" sitting on top of a stack of books, the title causing his mind to wander to something else that had crossed his mind a few times in the past few days.

Up until two days ago, his roommate and good friend Sam had been an enigma to him. It took a bizarre story from a drunken old sailor to clue him in that his companion's life may have been a bit more interesting than he could have imagined; the story of a drow sailor infected with a parasite that grew into an intelligent creature that was now studying in his apartment.

A part of him still wanted to dismiss the story as utter nonsense, though his lingering imagination wanted to believe the fantastic was possible. If the incident was as wide scale as the sailor insinuated, there was likely some recorded record or story of it somewhere in the city.

He was especially curious about the identity of Sam's possible father, whether a commoner from one of the matriarchal cities who ran to the surface, a member of Bregan D'arthe or any other mercenary company, an Eilistraeen working for the Light, a Vhaeraunite fooling all his fellows into thinking he was a good person, all the possibilities were endless. Sam frequently described his father as a "goodly man" (though complained was probably the appropriate term), so maybe the drow was truly good or he was taken in by another family; maybe an elven family named Qualro though it was just a thought.

The thought had crossed Khallis' mind to research the incident aboard the Bloody Tess, though the thought would become lost in a wave of other concerns and responsibilities. Now he was in the biggest public library in Waterdeep (in comparison to New Olamn's collection) and maybe he could afford ten minutes for some extra research. He only lived a stone's throw from the library and his father would already know he was finishing an assignment and would likely respect that situation.

He casually walked into the section of shelves he knew contained information about nautical and oceanic history. His quick eyes skimmed the shelves for any recognizable titles. It would be a quick skim to see if such information was the major news of the time or if it was a remote incident known only to sailors, or at least their imaginations.

He skimmed the titles on shelves, understanding every one of them using his need to process quick information at a quick time; a personal learning style that hindered his serious magic studies as he lacked the concentration to sit down and study for hours at a time.

After a minute, a blue, flimsy book spine typical of the copy of an official report caught his eye; a book bearing the title "Incident at Sea 1372: The attack on the Bloody Tess/Sea Sprite."

Khallis couldn't help but smile as he reached up and grabbed the book.

-----------

Salmryn didn't realize he actually fell asleep until a rapping at the door opened his eyes. He groaned and slowly found his bearings, knowing the person at the door was not likely the type to wait patiently.

In a single movement he came to his feet and heard another, less patient rapping.

He went to the door and opened it a crack, relieved the initial reaction wasn't a sword in his face; he normally wasn't paranoid but his roommate must have rubbed off on him too much than he would have liked.

There was no fat pasha covered in gold and bright silks nor was there a man in a turban and face coverings wielding a dagger as he had imagined.

Instead he saw a rather plain looking man on the other side of the door. He was a few inches shorter than him, though that was the standard for anyone of pure Calishite blood as this one clearly was by his swarthy, yet pale, skin, the jet-black hair he wore in a simple ponytail, and the shadow along his cleanly shaven face.

Khallis was right, the facial resemblance between him and this man were very close, though this one's features were a bit more hardened and chiseled. His toned physique was almost a surprise, but then maybe not. It was a striking contrast to Khallis' more rounded features. It was now obvious who was the bookkeeper and who did the customer relations work.

The man wore a simple white shirt with black trousers and a black cloak, the only article on him that indicated he was not a commoner nor was he a wealthy man. The only jewelry on him was two pairs of small gold hoops in each ear, though that was common among many men especially adventurers.

In the hallway's dim light, Salmryn did make the man out to be in his mid to late forties, another indication of how seemingly average he was. The hall was dim and his cloak covered any belt; Salmryn knew it would probably be rude to check for weapons now, but it was on his agenda for when they moved into brighter quarters.

"Well met, sir," Salmryn said in the most casually polite tone.

The man's black eyes locked with his in a calm look that bored through Salmryn's body.

"I am looking for Khallis Raen," the man said, his tone casual but had an edge. So much for being average, Salmryn thought.

"Sure, and who may I ask is calling," Salmryn said, knowing he should play the indirect route though already being sick of all this clandestine nonsense.

"Aldo Ranlani," the man said, casually scratching his nose with his index finger that bore a signet ring with the symbol Khallis had written on his note. "He is expecting me."

"Indeed, sir, I believe he mentioned something about you," Salmryn said, meeting the man's gaze again and feeling as if those eyes were dissecting him. "Come on in."

Aldo Ranlani, or Artemis Entreri, gave the green-haired water genasi another quick glance as he opened the door and allowed him entrance.

He looked around the apartment finding it bore his son's usual neatness and affinity for rich furnishings, though the slight clutter of books and scrolls was typical for a student.

The most out of place thing in this apartment was the very casual looking water kin greeting him at the door; a fellow student named Sam, he had been told, whose sweater of variegated black and rainbow yarn and the studs in his nose and eyebrow suggested more of an earthy wanderer type. Such a type was at best a learned and enlightened sage or at worst a baked layabout whose main hobby was navel-gazing.

Maybe his son had expanded his sights a little more, which could be a good thing or maybe just a sign he was further breaking down. If Khallis walked in with a thick beard wearing a rainbow parka and smelling heavily of patchouli oil, that would be another matter entirely.

"Khallis was given a last minute assignment by an infamously disagreeable instructor, so he may be a bit late," Salmryn said, sizing up his roommate's father as those cold eyes analyzed the room.

Entreri rolled his eyes in irritation, though he knew the water genasi was telling the truth by his matter-of-fact tone. It was also highly unlikely Khallis would have purposefully shirked his father's visit, unless he had other business matters with one of his outside contacts or wanted to irritate his roommate. Either way there was little cause for too much huffing.

"The perils of being a student I guess," Entreri replied.

Master Ranlani's tone hardly put Salmryn at ease, though he knew he was more relaxed around this man than he should have been. Every movement around that apartment was like a prowling panther at the ready to spring on something and he spoke to him like he was analyzing him. And Salmryn thought Khallis was paranoid; it was clearly an inherited trait, though whether inherited by blood or environment was a different story entirely. This man, however, had a perpetual air of icy control while Khallis was a little more on the laid back yet flustered side.

"He should be back in about, I don't know, fifteen minutes, half an hour or so," Salmryn said. "If you just want to sit down and relax that would probably be great. I know you've had a long journey and all that."

Entreri looked at Sam with a small smile. His extremely casual demeanor was almost refreshing and added another puzzle; was this one truly the stereotypical bardic student or was he truly cunning. Maybe he was also a mage or, by his attire, a monk. Entreri made no assumptions, though considered all possibilities.

Salmryn relaxed a bit, taking this as a small indicator Khallis father was lightening up, maybe acting a little more "normal." His relaxation lasted for only a moment as he saw a small tick in the corner of his mouth and his smile freeze for a moment as he looked him straight in the eyes, a small sneer forming before relaxing.

It was probably his way of intimidating people, Salmryn thought, though the only paranoid side of him had a feeling Ranlani saw his eye color and made a certain connection.

He was completely correct in his latter thought. In the low light of the room's oil lamps, Entreri caught a lavender glimmer in the water kin's eyes that put his mind back to Creshininbon, to Menzoberranzan, to a pair of eyes that haunted his mind for over a decade one time in cursed history.

The genasi's stiff expression broke the sudden memory, bringing him to look more at the yellow tinge around his slitted pupils. Entreri smiled again, mentally cursing himself for being overwhelmed like that and wearing his sudden shock on his face instead of in his head. It was a feeling that scared him; reminding him of that year he spent at the Copper Ante a complete emotional mess. That was over twenty years ago and he had overcome most of his demons, though sometimes this shot just needed a trigger.

"Khallis has some nice wine in the ice box, 1350 vintage or something," Salmryn replied as calmly as he could, a little more disturbed by Ranlani's sudden change of expression than the menacing look he gave him a moment ago. If he recognized what he thought he did and didn't like it, things here could turn ugly. "I don't know; I just drink the stuff. I think we got some pears somewhere too in case you need a snack."

"A glass of wine would be good, thank you," Entreri replied, shifting his gaze from Sam and back around the room.

Salmryn cautiously turned towards the small kitchen, resisting the strong temptation to duck into his room for a moment and get his swords in a location that was easier to reach from the hallway. He merely glanced inside room his across from the kitchen and the front door, seeing his sword belt resting against the wall, before continuing to the small kitchen.

In certain company, Salmryn was somewhat self-conscious about his purple eyes, the exact shade as his father's. In Silverymoon and other locales, they were an indication to others he was not just another idiot child but an idiot child with a powerful father; in such cases saving him and in others further pressing him under his father's legacy. Such a case was potentially lethal in another city he was stupid enough to travel to as a guard on a trade caravan. If anyone of the locals recognized the eye color of their most storied renegade, Salmryn didn't want to think on the consequences.

A flash of recognition was in this man's eyes and in this case that wasn't a good thing. Salmryn suspected Master Ranlani and his son were likely involved in the type of business his father would raise swords against. Odds were his father had run into him at some point, whether hunting pirates, bandits, or any other reason.

He walked into the tiny kitchen off to the side, opening the large ice box and pulling out a bottle of red wine, taking two freshly washed glasses off the counter and looking back at Ranlani. Ranlani paced the sitting room, scanning everything around him while keeping his hands casually folded behind his back.

Salmryn poured a glass of wine and downed it a second later, taking another look at his roommate's father and slightly relaxing at seeing no muscles tightening and no hands going to a belt. The man actually looked comfortably casual, a good sign since the last thing he wanted was any quarrel between him and his best friend's father over some old tiff that didn't involve him.

"How long have you been playing the yarting?" Ranlani asked.

Salmryn regarded him with an almost surprised expression, though figured the leather case beside the table probably gave it away.

"Since I was 16 I guess," Salmryn replied. "It was the popular thing to learn among my peers."

"You lived among artists?" Ranlani asked. "I pegged you for more the hearty adventurer type."

"I do my best to maintain airs," Salmryn replied with a nervous laugh, though the remark made his turned his stomach.

He wanted to brush away the comment and the earlier reaction, though any time someone he had never seen reacted in such a way to his eyes it meant his father's old business was coming back to bite him. Salmryn tried to recall any story told by any one of his family members about his father dealing with a Calishite, seeing if any recollection could clue him in on who this man was and how bad things could possibly get.

He remembered Uncle Regis telling stories of his time as a thief in Calimport, stories of evil wizards, beautiful, yet kind prostitutes, and wicked, cunning assassins.

"There was one man, if he could even be called that," he recalled his halfling uncle saying in one story when he was around ten. "An assassin too evil and horrible to speak of a man with a wicked dagger he would use to suck out the souls of his victims. It was a brilliant weapon; hilt of pure gold, encrusted with many emeralds…"

Almost like the emeralds that shone from a gold hilt on Ranlani's belt. His side was toward Salmryn now as he examined a painting of a multi-colored efreeti on the wall, hands on his hips though a gold dagger was clearly in view.

He examined the hilt, though his skin crawled at image in his peripheral vision of Ranlani looking back at him and clearly seeing where his eyes were turned and the way his mouth slightly hung open. Salmryn did not immediately take his gaze away, knowing he was caught and should proceed carefully.

Salmryn's gaze returned to pouring himself another glass and he casually glanced back and took a good look at the side profile of the man's backside; it was a move that could have gotten him hurt either way, but it was better this man think he was just a horny kid than a true threat. The move was rewarding for at least that second; Khallis' father did have a perfectly toned behind, slender like he normally liked them. The attraction went absolutely no further; the only emotion when around this man was nervousness.

Sam's attention casually returned to the glass, but his wandering eyes were not lost on Entreri, remembering Khallis mentioned something about his roommate's affinity for other males. The stolen glance hardly bothered him, as long as the young one didn't try anything fresh and had to have some fingers broken.

Lust, however, was hardly the young genasi's reason for looking in that direction; recognition was.

Maybe it was by fate that this creature with the same purple eyes as another old ghost showed some recognition of his jeweled dagger, an amusing thought until the thought of his green hair and scales brought back a seemingly nonsensical tale he had heard almost twenty years ago.

Entreri casually glanced over at Sam again, seeing him put the wine bottle back in the ice chest while visualizing all of the water genasi he had ever seen. They all pretty much came in different colors…though not once did he recall seeing one with as dark a complexion as Sam's.

What would the spawn of a sea devil and a drow be like, he thought. Possibly he would be a mindless beast; possibly he would be a carefree student like his son's roommate.

The realization made his skin crawl; all the sailors and tavern wenches in Waterdeep were right…possibly. Entreri didn't know what disturbed him more, the fact Khallis was rooming with Drizzt Do'Urden's son or the very thought of how said roommate was born. On one hand he thought it couldn't have happened to a more deserving person, though a part of him actually felt bad for Drizzt; a feeling more out of male sympathy than true sympathy. The feeling passed quickly; such tales were probably not true though his curiosity was strong.

Salmryn walked from the kitchen, his mind feverishly trying to fully remember who he was and how his father had pissed him off. There must have been more to Regis' story and he had to remember it soon.

Regis had been the biggest teller of his father's exploits when he was a child; dad told the occasional story of going against dragons or monsters, though was rather selective about stories involving any other enemy, especially if the enemy was humanoid. The Mithral Hall dwarves told him about the Battle of Mithral Hall against the drow, though his father avoided the subject whenever asked. Going up against one human assassin may have been a similar situation.

Ranlani, or whoever he was, turned around and accepted a glass of wine; his short, but meaningful look into his purple eyes was hardly lost on him. Khallis' father lightly tapped the glass with a familiar looking amethyst ring, though Salmryn bit his tongue to keep from saying "I think my father would be rather disappointed if I tried to kill you like that" and tense silence was kept.

"To Waterdeep," Salmryn said, raising his glass for no other reason than breaking the silence.

"To the City of tarnished Splendors," Entreri replied, a part of him enjoying this moment of discomfort too much, maybe as a way to relieve his own trepidation.

Salmryn smiled as his mind locked on Regis' story and jogged through every other tale he had heard from any member of his family or any Calishite-sounding name that stuck out.

"A name that is better hissed or whispered," Regis had said in his usually elaborate way.

Salmryn thought the name once and it played through his head repeatedly, trying not to show his look of shock but judging by the man's subtle smirk before turning around it was noticed.

He took a deep breath, recalling every time this name was uttered by a different family member, from his grandfather's growl, his mother's angry sigh, and his father's sad tone as he tried to bury the subject as soon as it was brought up.

Salmryn sipped his wine and casually glanced at his ornate dagger, looking up for a moment before looking to the other side of his belt and, as expected, seeing a longsword.

Artemis Entreri, Salmryn thought again. And he's standing here right in front of me.

A part of him thought he should curl into a ball and soil himself, though a larger part completely relaxed for some reason. He was scared and completely intrigued at the same time.

Every memory of hearing this man's name from family members and family friends flooded in. He recalled hearing the term "archenemy" used in relation to his father a few times, and every time thinking the label humorously ironic: dad had fought thousands of orcs, thousands of drow, and thousands of other creatures and this one single human was his "archenemy?"

Salmryn glanced at him again, seeing this horrible man who his father had fought against for so many battles sipping wine and looking at a gaudy painting with an unimpressed look.

This man was too young to be Entreri, Salmryn thought again. From what he had heard, Entreri was already entering his middle years the last time he and his father fought twenty or so years ago. Artemis Entreri would have to be in his fifties, possibly sixties by now yet this man barely looked forty-five. Maybe this was his son who had inherited his dagger, though the look he gave Salmryn after seeing his eyes was not one of recognition based on secondhand knowledge. This man has seen his father's eyes before and the sight of Salmryn's eyes startled him; likely seeing an old ghost in an unexpected place. Then again there were ways of slowing one's aging process.

"I think it's ugly personally," Salmryn said, coming beside Entreri to keep somewhat of an even stance, he didn't want to be behind him and possibly set him off yet the thought of being in front of him was too unsettling.

Entreri smirked and Salmryn swore he heard a small chuckle.

Sam's strained tone was obvious as was the sudden glean across the scales on his forehead and the beads of moisture on his brow. This young man was rather poor at hiding his emotions; he had a little realization a moment ago, though Entreri didn't know whether to celebrate his discomfort or feel his anxiety.

"Everyone has their own personal tastes, I guess," he replied, taking a long sip and putting his glass on a low table beside him.

Entreri took another look at Sam, seeing his posture still relaxed though a tiny bit stiffer; the sweat across his brow suddenly dried. He was a bit more at ease around him than when he first arrived; a sign of a brave disposition that needed to be properly trained.

He glanced at Sam's hand which hung casually at his side, palm slightly open and revealing to Entreri's trained eye a pattern of calluses around his palm and the lower parts of his fingers. This one had been a deckhand a few years ago, though the calluses were still hard years after he last pulled a mast line. The shape too indicated he had likely handled a sword on a more than regular basis.

He looked a the painting again before letting his eyes trail to the genasi's other hand that lightly held a wine glass and gave him a clearer view of the hard calluses on his other hand.

Papa must have passed down at least some of his skills, Entreri thought. Maybe he had a few more similar talents as well.

Entreri looked at the clock on the wall, seeing it was quarter after 6; Khallis was late and his father was becoming a little more annoyed.

"He must have had a little difficulty at the library," Salmryn said, taking a casual sip to show he really wasn't nervous.

Entreri glanced at Sam again while casually leaning on the table, his fingers strategically placed by the wineglass. With an agile twitch, his pinkie hit the base of the glass too fast for the motion to be noticed but hard enough for the glass to slide for the edge of the table. The glass jerked sideways before practically freezing in place without a wobble, the contents only rippling in place. Entreri felt all the momentum returned and a blue-black finger leaving the stem of the glass and his hand snapping back to its original place in a blur of motion.

Salmryn regretted the move as soon as he took it, though the regret faded into brave pride a second later. Entreri was testing him, a test that would expose his skills and ultimately his heritage, but he didn't care. It was as much in the open as it could be without anyone saying anything.

Entreri knew all he needed to know now and the water genasi's nervously confident expression told him everything. What could happened next could not be predicted, whether it involved drawn blades, curses, or maybe curses against a certain drow. In truth, he didn't know what to think about the situation.

Drizzt Do'Urden was an old ghost from a long-buried past; the symbol of his personal immaturity and the catalyst for his desire to change. He was a much different man now than he was over twenty years ago.

Now the progeny of that old ghost was standing next to him; standing next to him because he was close friends and roommates with his own son. Entreri didn't know whether to curse the concept or just shrug at the irony. What did the elder Do'Urden know of the company his son kept? Had he had a similarly awkward meeting with Khallis? He was hardly concerned that Khallis would speak with the drow once and turn against his father.

Khallis at his young age was a practical and shrewd individual with little love for the goodly life yet no stomach for wanton bloodshed. He was a consummate diplomat who wanted to keep an even keel with everybody despite his father's wishes he show a bit more force in some situations. This arrangement was only natural under the hands of fate. Entreri never even spoke of Do'Urden directly to Khallis' face where in his younger years he used to curse his name to anyone who would listen. Khallis probably knew more about the paladin in drow flesh in bardic college than he ever learned from his father.

They stood casually, though the tension between them was thick; both waiting for the other to make a move. Salmryn had no interest in waiting in that predicament until Entreri either killed him or Khallis returned to the apartment. After another minute he was almost anxious to air everything out and talk to this man his family spoke of as pure evil incarnate.

Just a few minutes ago this man scared him, now he intrigued him; whether because the all the information was obvious now or because his curiosity was stronger than his fear right now. Maybe another opportunity had presented itself to prove his father wrong; not all evils were necessarily bad.

His mind played every story, every curse, every whisper about this man. This man had kidnapped his mother, he recalled; the only recollection that gave him any remote dislike of the assassin. The fact he cut off two of Regis' fingers, captured him, and beat him up on more than a few occasions was another factor; though one who lives by thievery and fighting cannot expect to be treated nicely by everybody.

Even the incident with his mother only saw Entreri pushing her around a little, a few threats, and a couple slaps; still arguably something that came with the territory of her being a warrior. If he assaulted her in any other way, Salmryn would be going for his swords but such was not the case. The fact Entreri almost killed his father was a moot point; a lot of people almost killed his father. Salmryn himself almost killed his father just by being born.

The life of an adventurer was fraught with enemies and peril; why should an adventurer with different morals and goals be any more of a threat by principle alone? Salmryn also was not one to hold grudges against people who any of his family had bad experiences with. The opposite was true actually.

When he was ten, he passed King Obould Many-Arrows in a hallway at Mithral Hall following some kind of treaty negotiation. This orc who his father despised merely gave him a few stern words about the importance of growing up to be a strong man. Since then he was almost curious to meet these individuals his parents cursed as villains.

To Salmryn, this particular meeting was almost a banner occasion.

Salmryn downed the rest of his wine and laughed, prompting a bemused expression from the assassin.

"Well that son of yours would be late to his own hanging I guess," Salmryn said with a cackle. "Can I get you another glass Master…Ranlani?"

"No thank you," Entreri said politely, a bit intrigued by this sudden change in demeanor, whether a precursor to an attack or just a way of breaking tension.

The genasi walked to the kitchen, Entreri not taking his gaze off him and getting ready for anything he might try to pull.

Sam was about to enter the kitchen before spinning on his heels and doing an about face, giving Entreri a maniacal grin and bowing.

"Now where are my manners? Salmryn Do'Urden, by the way," he said, pointing at himself mid bow. "I'd ask your real name but I think I already know it."

Entreri stiffly smiled at this response, having no idea what this one intended.

"Indeed," Entreri replied. "So how fares your father?"

----------

It had been thirty pages of technical descriptions of the structure of the Bloody Tess, the history and mission of the Sea Sprite, and the creatures called the sirens; a typical bureaucratic account that saved all the stories for after the technical explanations, maybe hoping the reader would be asleep by the time the dirt was released.

Khallis' limited concentration had him skimming the pages, picking out a few details though this book was probably best left for a time when he didn't have to be immediately at home. His elbows further rested on the desk as he gave a sigh; Alvey Moore's story playing through his head was the only thing that kept his eyes on the page and his brain making the connections.

Khallis decided to take a quick glance at the rest of the pages, looking for some kind of quick narrative when one page with some more concise writing caught his eye.

The words "The Bloody Tess" was written in bold letters at the top with a list of names underneath and brief descriptions of their fates.

"Captain Jonas Woodbury: victim of the creatures," he read. "Dalifon Raib, aka Amoragon, ship's wizard: victim of the creatures. "Barakhoul, half-orc overseer: victim of the creatures." The list went on until a few more names caught his eye. "Thezz Jhaellin, drow deckhand: victim of the creatures. Akyth Jhaellin, drow deckhand (cleric of Vhaeraun): wounded by creatures, lone survivor."

Cleric of Talos indeed, Khallis thought; the ship's cleric was a Vhaeraunite, likely a fact too weird for most human sailors. Khallis gazed at the names of the Jhaellins again, possibly siblings, maybe just House mates. One died, one was wounded: maybe one was Salmryn's father.

Salmryn's father survived though; maybe that mysterious drow was Akyth, though Khallis wanted to read through the Sea Sprite's roster until knowing for sure.

His eyes skimmed down to the bold letters reading "The Sea Sprite" and saw a smaller list, likely only those who were involved. He read the usual names of Captain Deudermont and his wizard Robillard. His eyes then froze on one rather curious name.

"Drizzt Do'Urden, drow warrior: attacked by the creatures, survived."

Khallis read the name again to make sure he got that right. The name Drizzt Do'Urden had popped up occasionally in his studies. The first time when a fellow student in Selegaunt Preperatory, the only boarding school he wasn't kicked out of, mentioned something about a bad swordsman who "after you get a few brandies in him, he's Drizzt Do'Urden."

The name was even more frequent at New Olamn, as the names and stories of all of Faerûn's "storied heroes" were repeated ad nauseum in every history class and every dorm room; an easy source of verse as opposed to doing any actual research.

To Khallis, Drizzt Do'Urden was one of the copper-a-dozen celebrities in Faerûn, great for doing something or just being someone interesting.

He was well aware the name of the storied drow ranger was often associated with his father, though Khallis always thought it was much ado about little. His father was almost as profiled in such literature for being a bastard, though Fzoul, Manshoon, Szass Tam and a host of other true nasties put his father's name in tiny print on the list of villains, probably next to Elaith Craulnober, a thought Khallis would never utter anywhere near the city limits.

It was just enough so Khallis retained his mother's family name in most company and used his father's name in other company, though he always thought his father more misunderstood.

While story books shared the tale of the great Entreri-Do'Urden rivalry, Khallis could just smile and dismiss the whole feud for the clash of egos it was. His father had admitted as much, though Khallis could tell by his expression it was a situation that still stung to some level.

It should have been no surprise to see the famed lavender-eyed ranger on this roster, the name and description "Catti-brie Battlehammer, warrior: survivor of creature battle" underneath. Two of the great "Companions of the Hall" were on this ship, the ranger and his gorgeous yet powerful wife…who was a sure shot with a bow.

Khallis' jaw dropped; a black skinned elf and his pretty wife who was a crack shot, Alvey Moore mentioned the same thing.

"There's no way," Khallis whispered to himself as he continued reading.

He got to the end of the roster, sure enough reading the names of Seamus and Mikus Norey, the two clerics of Valkur.

There was a space after all the names of involved Sea Sprite crew with one more name at the bottom of the page.

"Salmryn Do'Urden, water genasi (half-siren/half-drow); result of attack on Drizzt Do'Urden, born humanoid infant (see narrative)."

"Salmryn Do'Urden," Khallis mouthed. "Sam."

The reality of what he just read made his head spin; his roommate was not only a creature pulled from the body of a male drow, he was a creature pulled from the body of Drizzt Do'Urden. It just got weirder and weirder.

The same Drizzt Do'Urden his father had battled so many years ago, Khallis thought with an almost amused smirk…the same father who was coming to his apartment and likely meeting the son of his…

Khallis' eyes darted to the clock. Quarter past 6 it read.

The book slapped closed and a few sages took a passing glance at the young man running for the door.


	11. Part 11: 1392

Legend of the Phoenix Brothers

**Legend of the Phoenix Brothers**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

**Part 11**

**28 of Hammer, 1392 DR The Year of Elven Promises**

**Waterdeep**

Sprinting down the street and shoving people out of the way with sword drawn was never a wise idea. Maintaining a casual, yet swift walking pace with a calm gait was, however, complete torture.

A maelstrom raged in Khallis' brain and reverberated through his entire body. His heart pounded, his stomach was painfully tight, and he could feel the cold sweat just congealing on his flesh and clothing.

He managed to calmly pass a child stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and staring at a shop window full of sweets despite his father calling for him a few paces ahead. He resisted the temptation to kick the kid aside and shove his father for not keeping an eye on his spawn. Instead he sidestepped both and kept his pace in the direction of his apartment.

Khallis played the scenario over and over in his head; he would calmly enter the building, ascend the stairs and walk down the hallways with a soft, sneaking step becoming softer as he approached his door, and carefully listen to the door for what was going on inside.

What happened next could have been anything.

A hard, painful sigh escaped him; his calm expression cracking at last into a wince. Khallis didn't want to think on what he was going to find at his apartment; there were too many possibilities and several of them made his stomach turn.

His father was in the same room as his best friend. His father was in the same room as the son of his one-time archnemesis. His best friend was in the same room with the man who nearly killed his own father. Both of them were alone together in the same quiet apartment because Khallis decided to take his sweet time getting home, doing extra research when he should have been meeting his father at their agreed-to time.

Khallis slowed his pace and took a second to catch his breath and clear his mind.

In retrospect, that research that kept him could lead to keeping two people from killing each other; or at least could keep Sam alive a little longer under the circumstances. He now cursed himself for not doing that research on the Bloody Tess incident right after Alvey Moore drunkenly babbled on about it at that tavern in the Docks Ward.

There was no way in the Hells he could have known that seemingly ridiculous story would have a direct effect on his own family life.

"Horse shit," Khallis quietly spat to himself while clenching a fist, not caring at this point who noticed what. "You idiot, it was right in your face all this time! How could you have not noticed anything?"

He only received a few passing glances; a frustrated man silently cursing to himself was not an entirely unusual sight. There were a few more unusual sights that flashed through Khallis' mind mocking him for not being noticed before.

Sam's bright, purple eyes, skin significantly darker than that of the average water kin, ears with a much more obvious point than any other water kin, his mastery of two-sword fighting; he had thought nothing of these things, though why would he?

Eyes the color of periwinkle or octopus flesh were not an oddity for a water creature and there were so many aquatic folk with dark blue flesh. His humanoid parent could have been Chultan for all Khallis knew. There were a million different explanations for how Khallis would never connect Sam's features to that of a storied drow. Two-sword combat wasn't exclusively a drow trait either.

Alvey Moore's story should have rung a few bells, Khallis thought, feeling the sick in his stomach returning with the sight of his apartment building over the hill. The Sea Sprite, a dark elf with a human wife who is a master of the bow; his History of Waterdeep class should have planted a few seeds. Drizzt Do'Urden and Catti-brie Battlehammer were renowned in the city as pirate hunters, though the details of those tales faded to history as well.

Once again, there was no way the connection could be made between the "great" Drizzt Do'Urden and the eccentric bard Sam Qualro; and Sam probably wanted it that way.

Sam Qualro, the name sounded almost comical to Khallis now; one of many aliases he had heard his friend give to various folks. The name Salmryn Do'Urden sounded pure; the missing keystone of truth in Khallis' knowledge of a man he considered a close friend.

For months he speculated and wondered about his mysterious friend, now the truth was even more intriguing. It was the one thought that put a smile on Khallis' face despite all the tension running through his body; the motley creature living in his apartment with a penchant for mind altering herbs and bedding men in strange places was the son of a noble hero with a reputation for honor and purity. It was too perfect; perfect for Khallis' sense of irony, maybe, though not at all perfect for the current situation.

The row of buildings in which Khallis and Sam's apartment sat loomed on the hill, almost mocking Khallis as his pace quickened.

Anything could have been going on in that apartment, he thought with a hard sigh. For a moment he felt he had locked Sam into a lion's den, or in his case lured him into a sea cave where a hungry shark awaited.

Anything that did happen to Sam would depend on Sam's own actions, Khallis told himself; a thought that cleared a large weight form his shoulders. He was not entirely responsible for people's fates; he had to remind himself of that regularly, especially regarding those who seemed barely in control of themselves.

Khallis could not entirely gauge how his father would react to Sam in general, even if he would have inkling about his parentage. Khallis knew his father had no qualms about killing people, but only killed if necessary. Anything with the name Do'Urden could have been immediately filed into that category for all Khallis knew given how heated the feud was according to legend. It wasn't as if papa told many tales of it and Uncle Jarlaxle was just as stingy with the details, so the current situation was impossible to predict.

Khallis knew his father's reaction to Sam was a major variable, though Sam would have a hand in his own fate. Maybe Drizzt was just as close-mouthed about the feud, or maybe Khallis' father was the monster in many bedtime tales. At worst, Sam would want to try to finish off what his own father could not, prove his own skills against his father's mortal enemy. Khallis doubted such was the case, or at least optimistically hoped such was the case. Sam was more likely to buy him a drink than draw swords on him, though he was also likely to make some smart comment that could easily touch off a powder keg.

Khallis was now a few feet from his apartment building, taking another deep breath and clearing his mind. Whatever was happening in that apartment would happen as long as he wasn't there.

He reached for the front door praying to whoever was listening that whatever course that had begun could be resolved to the benefit of all.

* * *

Sam was about to enter the kitchen before spinning on his heels and doing an about face, giving Entreri a maniacal grin and bowing.

"Now where are my manners? Salmryn Do'Urden, by the way," he said, pointing at himself mid bow. "I'd ask your real name but I think I already know it."

Entreri stiffly smiled at this response, having no idea what this one intended.

"Indeed," Entreri replied. "So how fares your father?"

"He fares," Salmryn said with a smirk, taking a casual step back and allowing one hand to prop him against the wall. "To put it kindly at least."

Salm cursed himself the moment the words left his mouth, though the thought was washed away by his surging adrenaline and his widening smile.

Entreri raised an eyebrow at the response, seeing the glean of sweat return across the boy's forehead for a moment and suddenly dry. He was forcing his smugness, or the mention of his father was rather unsettling in some way which mildly intrigued Entreri.

"Though you prosper, I hear," Salmryn said. "Khallis has not gone into too many details, of course, but I hear you both run a rather successful business."

"You heard correctly," Entreri said with a widening smirk. "Though I will say it's not the sort of business you would approve of, at least if you were raised right."

"Ha," Salmryn said, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step forward. "Right? Maybe. Righteous? Hells no. A man's business is his own. I've held a few jobs myself that would make my father cringe, so you will have no judgment from me."

Entreri nodded at the response, catching no small hint of boasting in the young man's tone. Salmryn was sticking his chest out, but as a scoundrel himself and not a goodly hero. He had stuck a sword through so many assuming little boys, though this one piqued his curiosity more than his ire especially considering his heritage.

"How tragic for your father who has such a pristine reputation to uphold," Entreri said, crossing his arms and stepping closer to Salmryn.

"His reputation is his own problem," Salmryn said, meeting Entreri's piercing gaze for one full second before casually looking away, "though you probably figured as much."

"Though what of my reputation," Entreri said calmly, keeping a focused gaze on Salmryn and seeing a nervous smirk in return. The beads of sweat around the scales of Sam's forehead returned despite his increasingly smug expression. "How much has papa said about me, out of the purest curiosity?"

"I think he's mentioned you once or twice," Salmryn said, crossing his own arms to hide the slight shake in his hands. "You are not one of his favorite subjects to speak on. All apologies but he is more likely to boast of slaying orcs. I hope you're not too disappointed."

Entreri's sensitive ear caught the light shuffling of feet in the hallway, likely from a passing tenant until the sound stopped right in front of the door. He waited for the click of Khallis' key in the lock or a knock at the door, though any activity in the hallway stayed silent for a lingering moment. Someone took an interest in this apartment, or was waiting for their opportunity.

"Hardly disappointed," Entreri said with a chuckle as he inched up to Salmryn. Maybe whoever was eavesdropping would hear something they expected, or not so much.

Salmryn snuck back half a step before the human was practically touching noses with him a breath later. Entreri heard a sharp gasp from the water genasi, or whatever he actually was, before the smug smirk returned.

"Your father's been dead to me for twenty years," Entreri said with a hint of a sneer that sent a visible shiver through Salmryn. "I would be happy if I was dead to him too."

Salmryn found some movement in his tongue, slightly shaking off his sudden shock enough to come up with some sort of witty comment; or at least he thought it came out but it was still locked behind his clenched teeth.

He glanced at the still-sneering assassin, those cold eyes still boring through him, though merely sighed and opened his mouth slightly to say something. His words were taken from him in a startled twitch with a loud click of metal. Salmryn looked toward the door to see the knob jerk.

"Better late than never," Entreri said, looking at the door before looking at Salmryn and taking a few steps back.

The boy remained frozen in place as Entreri casually walked closer to the door to see it open a crack as a familiar set of black eyes and a pudgy, goateed face peeked in the apartment.

"You're late," Entreri said, crossing his arms, though maintaining a casual stance.

"I have an instructor who's an imbecile," Khallis said, shoving the door open with his shoulder, his stance and voice as calm as he could muster though he knew it betrayed a slight crack.

His eyes crawled to his father; weapons were still in their sheathes and no tears or blood marked his clothing. Khallis' gaze trailed to Salmryn and he gave an involuntary sigh of relief to see him upright and taking a few steps toward the door completely unmarred.

Sam's complexion was blanched and a healthy amount of perspiration coated his face. His normally beaming expression was significantly muted to one of slight fear, though he could see some frustration in his eyes as well.

Khallis had heard talking, though he could not make out the words. Fortunately, his worst fears hadn't come true…yet.

Khallis' nervousness was written all over his face; Entreri saw flushed skin and a few more heaving breaths indicative of more emotion than just coming over in a hurry. These could have been written off as indicators that Khallis was nervous about being late for his father's first visit, though Entreri saw beneath that.

Seeing how Khallis carefully placed his key in his belt pouch told Artemis everything, his hand was close to his sword. He was entering that apartment ready for a melee. The reasons behind his demeanor would have to be fully sussed out later, though Artemis had a fairly good idea what was going on.

Khallis took another hardly surreptitious breath and moved his hand from his belt, approaching his father and extending his arm. Entreri smiled and clasped his forearm, both briefly patting each other on the shoulders.

"Was the trip completely ghastly," Khallis said, looking at his father and realizing he actually missed him.

"Not completely," Entreri replied, letting himself relax a bit and just enjoy being with his son again. "I made myself comfortable."

Khallis gave a stiff chuckle, glancing at Sam and seeing him still standing in the same position. Salmryn's mouth quirked into a small smirk, though he looked thoroughly overwhelmed.

Salmryn gently clenched his fist, though realized it wasn't as gentle when he felt his pointed fingernails dig into his flesh. Entreri's attention was away from him now and he could breathe, yet the only breaths he took were sharp intakes as the heat in his chest rose.

He practically glared at Khallis…or Khallis Entreri or whatever he called himself. His presence was most unwelcome though not for whom he was. His roommate, his close friend, was the father of his father's archenemy; that fact was not the issue now. Salmryn still wanted him out though only because he got in the way of some real talking between him and this ghost from his family's past. It was a stolen moment he wanted paid back in spades.

The sour look was hardly lost on Khallis. His stomach lurched at the sight and he wanted to just explain so many things to Sam; to Salmryn Do'Urden, the son of a man Khallis' father almost killed in a long and nasty rivalry. Salmryn had met Khallis' father and was not happy with what he saw, or maybe Khallis father did or said something to trigger his discomfort. Nothing ever seemed to faze Sam, but Khallis' father had a way to stir up emotions. Maybe that stirring was near already unstable waters.

"Well I hope the old man didn't bore you too much," Khallis said, turning to Salmryn with a nervous chuckle. He had to say something, any attempt at lightness amid the potential calamity he had walked into.

"No, no, he's a very interesting character," Salmryn said, doing his best impersonation of a jovial tone. He traded a brief glance with Entreri before looking back at his roommate.

Khallis brief look of intense sympathy bore through Salmryn; it was as if Khallis was apologizing for something that he shouldn't have known was amiss. Salmryn had two words for how that could have happened: Alvey Moore. Get a few drinks into the old bastard and he'll relate any tale and there was only one tale he was only too willing to tell when Salmryn was in the vicinity; and Khallis' natural knack for gathering information made him a captive audience.

Entreri stood back and crossed his arms, watching all the little glances, subtle and not so, and listening to every nervous word. All of it told Entreri all he needed to know; Khallis already had some knowledge that Salmryn only had that night. The question was how did he learn, how long had he known, and why did he leave his roommate and supposed best friend alone in the same room with his father's old enemy? Then again there was no way Khallis could have fathomed how heated the rivalry had been. Regardless, Khallis had a lot of explaining to do.

Khallis didn't even want to look at his father right now. Hardly anything was said, though the tension in the room was palpable and his father was probably analyzing every smirk, nervous tick, and moments of harsh silence and spotting everything.

"Well, I know my ass is sore from studying and yours probably is from the trip," Khallis said, looking at Entreri. "I say we get into some refreshing, city air."

"I could go for some vittles, or a few beers whichever comes first," Entreri said, his mouth curling into a polite smile.

"Fantastic," Khallis said, giving him a hearty clap on the shoulder. "I'll just take a second to get a tunic that doesn't reek of moldy books."

He nodded at Entreri and turned toward his bedroom, passing Sam and giving him another nervous glance. Khallis opened the door to his room and walked in, hastily ripping off his tunic and snatching a small bottle of rose water from his bureau.

Entreri walked over to the couch and casually plopped down, taking a brief glance at Khallis' open door and seeing him clumsily dab the water over his neck and chest. Normally Khallis would spend nearly an hour picking out the right outfit, the right jewelry and belt, and impeccably brushing his hair and applying some type of cologne before even stepping a foot out the door.

"It's indeed a small world, Khallis," Entreri said. "Sam's father and I once worked together a long time ago."

Khallis' back was turned, though the sudden shiver that went through his neck and shoulders was obvious.

"Yeah, dark elves, wasn't it?" Salmryn said, crossing his arms looking directly at Entreri though not moving an inch from his spot.

"Among other things," Entreri replied, putting his hands behind his head and looking at Salmryn. "Those were some wild times."

Salmryn gave him an exaggerated smirk. The two simply stared at each other, though more with looks of calm apprehension than any major emotions.

A scaled hand rose slightly, fingers twitching in what was clearly drow hand code.

_We will continue this conversation_, Salmryn signed, his face resolute but his hands shaking.

Entreri smiled, raising his eyebrows in curiosity. He could not use drow code, though understood it and Salmryn probably figured that. He looked out the adjacent window before casually looking back to Khallis and seeing he had on a fresh, blue tunic. Salmryn's intense gaze was obvious through Entreri's peripheral vision.

Entreri looked up at Salmryn, who raised his eyebrows in anticipation.

"Midnight," he mouthed, hoping the kid could at least read lips. "Virgin's Square."

Salmryn gave an exaggerate sneer with a nod, though Entreri saw the beads of sweat return around his face.

_Midnight_, he signed back. _Virgin's Square_.

Salmryn had no idea what this meant; Virgin's Square was a little too public for a fight, though was around several taverns. Anything could happen, the absolute best and the absolute worst, though Salmryn would have his answers at last.

He didn't even notice Khallis had left his room until Entreri stood up with Khallis right in front of him.

"Well, we are off to rape and pillage before dessert," Khallis said to Salmryn. "Try not to trash the place."

"No it's your turn," Sam said, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

Khallis gave a forced smile with a look that seemed to say "don't hate me."

Salmryn merely smiled back before taking a breath and taking a bold step toward Entreri while extending his hand.

"Well met, sir," Salmryn said in a beaming voice, clasping his forearm. "I owe you a drink before you leave so we can finish our tales."

"I appreciate the offer," Entreri said, feigning his own enthusiasm. "It was nice meeting you, Salmryn."

Entreri emphasized his last word, seeing the same forced grin from Do'Urden's son and an involuntary shiver from Khallis. They released arms and Salmryn watched Khallis open the door. Entreri followed close behind, flashing him one more glance before disappearing into the hallway.

"Try to pick a tavern tonight that isn't populated by high-nosed intellectuals," Salmryn heard Entreri say to Khallis as the door closed.

The silence that followed was overwhelming.

* * *

Khallis had expected that his reunion with his father after two months in Waterdeep would at least have some idle conversation. Papa was not the most talkative individual, though was good for a few words in passing. Khallis would have welcomed a few idle words, instead he had to eavesdrop on the conversations of passing Waterdhavians as an alternative to the stifling silence between him and his father as the two walked through the Castle Ward.

He idly glanced at his father, seeing his gaze focused ahead with a deeply pensive expression. Entreri met his son's wandering gaze for a moment, seeing his face still flushed and expression deeply troubled. Both wanted to say something, yet the right words were still in the making.

Khallis gave a light smile; this had to end at some point and he was the one with more of a story at the moment.

"So you and Sam's father worked together at one point," Khallis said, looking at his father.

Entreri's gaze stayed ahead as he smirked.

"Indeed," Entreri said, "or at least we found ourselves in the same misadventure a very long time ago."

"Truly," Khallis said. "I find that fascinating; though how much of said misadventure involved you two trying to kill each other?"

Entreri looked at Khallis, seeing his look of apprehension become a look of tired impatience.

"So you've heard some stories," Entreri said, cocking his eyebrow. "Have you heard any names as well?"

"A certain righteous dark elven ranger whose name I've heard too many times among the bardic crowd," Khallis said, taking a look around and making sure none of the sparse passers by were lingering too long in their direction or visibly taking any interest in their conversation. None were and simply went about their nightly business.

Entreri merely nodded in response, a scowl forming at the mere thought of said individual, though confirming his suspicion that Khallis knew who Salmryn's father was.

"Who was your source and how long ago did you receive this information," Entreri asked.

"A couple different sources and neither of them being Sam," Khallis said. "It's information he keeps very well hidden behind several different aliases and vague if any mentions of his background in conversation."

Entreri was more intrigued by this bit of information than his other burning question.

"The hidden hero or the wayward son?" Entreri asked.

"Possibly the former, likely the latter by how he talks," Khallis said, so many past conversations with Sam flooding back. "He's never mentioned his father by name, though any mention is usually followed by an eyeroll and possibly some less than favorable words."

Entreri looked at Khallis and saw the look of realization on his face. He was making some connections this may have been the right or the wrong time to pick his brains. Entreri was at a point where he could make his own connections; Salmryn wanted it to be very clear he was hardly a saint and Khallis' information mirrored that.

"As for when I learned this information, just trust me when I say this is too bizarre to lie about," Khallis said. "My leads came two days ago, though I received the bulk of my information barely an hour ago."

"So you were in the midst of serious scholarly research tonight," Entreri said with a smirk.

"I will say my insipid report on the dwarf friend of the High Forest's bronze dragons is written on a scroll on my bureau as we speak," Khallis said. "It was more taking a few minutes to do a little more poking in the right places of the Font of Knowledge while I was already there."

"Likely investigating said leads," Entreri said.

"Sam dragged me to this tavern by the docks this past tenthday," Khallis said, "this crusty rum house for crusty-rummed up sailors. Sam runs into an old friend of his and goes off to catch up on old times. I inch closer, see if I can find a few more details when I find myself chatting with this ancient salt smelling like the inside of a barrel. 'Oh you know Sammy,' he says. 'He's the luckiest creature to ever sail the seas.' I press a little, actually nudge and watch everything pour out, and hear what could probably be the most incredible and possibly ridiculous story I have ever heard."

"Said story wouldn't have involved a pirate ship, a mass of creatures, and a male dark elf giving birth?"

"Indeed," Khallis said, looking at his father with surprise.

"I heard several variations on the same theme in this exact city two months after said incident occurred," Entreri said. "Though no names were mentioned in what you heard?"

"The main character in the story was simply a dark-skinned elf working alongside his human wife, an old goodly cleric, and a wicked pirate cleric," Khallis said, the look of frustration clear on his face.

"And you never made the connections," Entreri asked, though he already had his answers. "Or likely you had nothing to connect anything to other than what is now a common situation."

Many drow came to the surface and took jobs on ships, Entreri thought, and there were many human sailors who could be taken as a bride by any drow. It was a story that had become more and more typical over the past few decades and Khallis likely did not make an automatic connection to Drizzt and Catti-brie.

Khallis nodded, relieved at the last response because it summed up everything.

"I only made the connections thanks to an official report by the Waterdeep Navy regarding the Bloody Tess and your old friend," Khallis said.

"All connections likely made just as I arrived at your apartment and met your new friend," Entreri said.

Khallis chuckled between a sigh, running a hard hand through his thick, black hair.

"Some lady in the outer planes likes me," Khallis said. "Whether it's Lady Luck or Lady Misfortune, I'd rather not know."

Entreri gave his own stiff laugh, knowing Khallis spoke nothing but complete truths that completely unnerved him. If it was a situation he could have hid he would, though too much was coming at him out in the open.

Khallis stopped and gently grabbed Entreri by the shoulder. Entreri followed along and allowed himself to be turned around to face his son.

"I don't know all of that happened between you and Salmryn's father," Khallis said gravely. "I do know that Salmryn is one of my closest friends and the last thing I want is for any voices or swords to be raised because of an old quarrel that doesn't involve either of us."

Khallis was never afraid or reluctant to give stern words to his father regarding a situation in which Khallis held great interest or risk; whether Entreri reluctantly nodded or told him where to stick his opinion was his own choice. The level of sincerity and fear in Khallis voice was intense.

"Khallis, I have never given a bugbear's hairy ass who you keep as friends," Entreri said. "Who you choose to keep around you is your business and all the consequences and rewards are yours. You and Sam are no exception and I have no reason to care at all unless I am made to care. I will offer one little piece of insight from what I know of Sam's family; if Drizzt or any of his companions learn whose blood flows through your veins they will not share my view."

Khallis nodded, a small smile breaking through.


	12. Part 12: 1392

Legend of the Phoenix Brothers

**Legend of the Phoenix Brothers**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

**Part 12**

**29 of Hammer, 1392 DR The Year of Elven Promises**

**Waterdeep**

The small, glowing water clock on the small table by Salmryn's bed read a quarter before midnight.

Salmryn had to take a moment to stare at the soft purple and blue glow, seeing the time and actually realizing he had fallen asleep. The not-so-gentle opening of a door across the hallway ended the sudden slumber.

He managed a groan and pushed himself on his elbows then letting his body get used to a wakeful state before pushing himself upwards and landing on his feet in a full stand. A few careful breaths staved off a full head rush and made him a bit more awake than he was a moment ago.

Salmryn carefully peeked out his still-open door, seeing the apartment in its usual state through his low light vision, including Khallis' door partially ajar. He crept forward, a heaviness sinking into his chest; Khallis was the last person he wanted to talk to now, yet they had to talk sometime. Salmryn more hoped such words would be had in the morning hours after Salmryn and Khallis' father finished some old business.

Salmryn carefully approached the door and strained his vision to look through the small crack. It was enough to see Khallis laying in bed, fully clothed yet pulling the covers over himself; one side of his face was buried in a pillow and the visible side bore clear fatigue.

Khallis Raen, Salmryn thought to himself, or Khallis Entreri. Maybe his roommate's given name was something entirely different and Khallis Raen was on the list with Khalid Marhala among his many aliases. Salmryn called him by that alias the first time they met in Waterdeep and his future roommate tried to kill him soon after. Maybe Khalid was his real name; Khalid Entreri, the son of a legendary assassin.

Too many stories were starting to match up; an illegitimate business person in Calimport with a "hard man" for a father. No wonder why he wanted to escape Calimport for New Olamn; no wonder why he was always looking over his shoulder and so quick to lose his cool when pressed.

He was no monster; Salmryn was sure of this. He had everyone from monsters to ne'er do-wells of all races and positions and Khallis, or whatever his name was, seemed more motivated by neutral personal interest than true greed, power lust, or anything resembling a dark purpose. Such a personality, backed by impressive fighting and magic skills, could thrive in the murder and intrigue of Calimport, especially as the son of a warrior of legendary skill and a frightening reputation.

Thrive maybe; burn out or turn into a monster himself, most likely. Maybe that's why Khallis was here; too many things were making sense.

Khallis' side rose and fell with his breathing; he at least looked asleep. Salmryn smiled and took a last look at his roommate and close friend; the son of Artemis Entreri, his own father's "archnemesis."

Salmryn managed to stifle his chuckle lest it wake Khallis; the situation was too perfect.

He turned from the door and carefully walked back to his room, looking at the water clock again while grabbing his weapon belt from against the wall. Ten minutes to midnight, it read; he would have to leave now to get at least some head start, though he was probably late already.

The top part of his leather belt rubbed against the bare skin underneath his black and rainbow sweater. He adjusted the position of each shortsword at his hip, their weight finding its way in his mind as well as his body as he gave a hard sigh.

Dad would push him against a wall and scream at him for doing this; curse his judgment and his maturity for exposing his heritage to Artemis Entreri let alone arrange a meeting with him. He would plead with him not to go to this meeting, maybe step in the way and meet the assassin himself so his son would not have to.

Salmryn clenched his fists and pushed out all thoughts, suddenly ripping off his sweater and throwing it across the room.

Dad was in Moonwood looking to hack up whatever he and his elven friends declared the enemy of the day to give himself something to focus on besides his own malaise. He was the last person qualified to give Salmryn any advice on how to handle his own affairs.

Salmryn was a few months shy of twenty and had traveled, battled, and experienced so much already; he had already established himself and his philosophies and didn't need daddy barking at him over his shoulder.

He was willing to have a civil conversation with Artemis Entreri when his father seemed content to raise swords.

It was naïve, however, to expect Entreri wouldn't want a fight. Salmryn was well aware of this possibility, remembering one of the rare stories dad told him about his own kind; Menzoberranzyr drow would challenge his father to fulfill their wish of defeating his grandfather. The son and student of the legend were the same as the legend; maybe that's what Entreri wanted with Salmryn.

In the end, it was a risk Salmryn was willing to take; a ghost from his family's past presented himself and Salmryn had to make peace with it. Whether this ghost was a monster or just a simple spirit was another matter entirely.

The thought remained in the back of Salmryn's mind that this destined meeting would be more advantageous for him than perilous, if for just the experience or any other benefit. He knew the importance of keeping the right friends and maintaining certain relationships with people for any possible purpose and each one had to be treated with the same amount of care.

The thought put a small, reluctant smirk on Salmryn's face though it could do little to ease his nervousness. He took a deep breath feeling some of the tightness leave his chest while walking to his bureau, opening a drawer, and pulling out a gray tunic he had bought in Sshamath that was woven with armored thread.

He slid the tunic over his body and walked toward the door, taking another check of the swords at his hips and the dagger on his belt. He paused, looking back at the slightly disorganized space.

I will see this room again, he silently assured himself with a lingering gaze. At last he shook his head and walked from the room with determination.

* * *

One could tell a lot about a person by the way he waited; some were perfectly patient, others fidgety, some would not stick around at all. Salmryn was a bit of the second category.

Entreri leaned his back further against a wall in an alley with a central view of Virgin's Square, the brim of his bolero pulled down so he was invisible to all.

His black eyes were glued to the green-haired half-drow across the square idling pacing the dirt before looking up to a clock in a shop window. A few tinkling chimes from various clocks scattered around further confirmed the time to be half past midnight.

Entreri arrived in the square five minutes before midnight. He sent Khallis back home from the third tavern they had visited that night saying he had some business to take care of. Whether Khallis figured it involved his roommate was another matter, though he was giving no indicators.

Salmryn had first come into view a few minutes after midnight looking calm yet somewhat apprehensive. He stood patiently at first, casually pacing though was soon looking in all directions, crossing his arms, and sometimes shuffling nervously.

Entreri had no clue what the boy's intentions were for that meeting and having him cool his heels was an ideal way to gauge what he had in mind.

The moment Salmryn entered the square Entreri saw a shortsword strapped to each hip, confirming at least a few of his suspicions about the boy in general. Khallis had told him Salmryn knew two-weapon fighting, though Khallis himself was not proficient enough in the style to gauge whether his roommate was truly that good at it.

Entreri was still debating whether he actually wanted to test those skills. His curiosity about Salmryn's skill with a sword was beyond strong, almost nagging. Salmryn appeared to have his father's speed and could keep up with Entreri at least in stopping a sliding wine glass.

It was a parlor trick, however. The only way he could truly measure Salmryn Do'Urden's fighting skills was to go against him, yet a practical tone of warning in the back of his mind told him, for whatever reason, it wouldn't be a wise idea.

A light sparring match could get out of hand if one person's memories or motivations were triggered the wrong way.

Salmryn may have wanted to finish what his father never did, possibly proving himself the better Do'Urden. Entreri bore a slight bit of wariness that he could enter the match with neutral emotions and end it shoving a sword into a lavender-eyed creature after having too many unwelcome thoughts triggered. He did not doubt his self control, though gave himself the benefit of the doubt for having some old emotions dug up. Besides, if Salmryn received so much as a shallow slice anywhere, it might have given Drizzt an excuse to come after him.

It was a potential mess Entreri didn't want too much of a part in, though he had come to the conclusion in his later years that fighting a warrior would reveal only a small part of his opponent. A skilled warrior could be a coward in other matters while a methodical genius could barely lift a kitchen knife.

He was curious about Sam's prowess with a blade, though was even more curious about whom Sam was in general, especially given the noble brood he was raised in. Was he like his father in every way? What was Drizzt like as a father; loving and encouraging? A cold taskmaster? Maybe worse; maybe the righteous hero's morals went as far as his mouth and Salmryn paid the price. Entreri could picture such being the case, yet the idea made him cringe for some reason.

From what Khallis had said over dinner, it seemed Salmryn did not have an ideal home life. His parents were separated, according to what Salmryn had told Khallis; said parents were likely Drizzt and Catti-brie, meaning the fairy tale ending for the great hero was short-lived. Salmryn did not seem to speak well of his father either and maybe there were reasons for this.

Salmryn took another circle around the square, narrowly avoiding a few idle passers by. His hands were at his hips, fingers idly tapping the pommels of his swords. Maybe he would draw blades and call Entreri out right there, though he looked a little too calm at the moment for such a move.

The boy's gaze turned from the street to the clock shop seeing it the same time as when he checked a second ago. A heaving sigh escaped him as he kicked a loose fragment of cobblestone.

Entreri took a few careful steps away from his perch while keeping his eyes on Salmryn. This little hiding game would have to end soon, though waiting a minute longer might reveal a few more things.

Salmryn's gaze turned up the street and he idly looked at a few of the usual passers by. A clunking sound turned Entreri's attention up the street and past a group of middle aged mages and Salmryn's attention looked to fall in the same direction.

Two men in typical common traders clothes dragged a large case through the square rather clumsily. One set of greasy hands held onto a handle at the end of the case that was nearly his size as the other tried to grab the handles on the other end, though that end just dragged across the cobblestones more often than not. Judging by the first man's occasional bark at his partner he was not pleased about the case being dropped.

It was a fair assumption they were merchants selling whatever product they were carrying to any of the many stores in the Trade's Ward. Their simple cloaks and waistcoats didn't suggest them to be the artisans as was the clumsy way they dragged and occasionally dropped corner of the case hard in between cobblestones; artisans would use a better carrying method and would treat their items with more care.

Entreri smirked at the scene. These two were sitting ducks for robbers; neither of them paid any attention to what was going on around them and both were armed only with a single shoddy dagger. Entreri looked around and saw no guards in the immediate vicinity, probably due to a duty change, concern for the square being minimal on a normal night, or perhaps the Trades Ward guard was somewhere else in the area.

A would-be robber or band could easily kill the carriers or simply kick the case over, grab as much merchandise as they could, and be out of the scene or perhaps the city before the watch even reached the area.

Entreri took another look at the carriers, seeing them put the case on the ground and snip at each other. They could have been undercover guards playing to be dumb merchants in hopes that someone would try to rob them and they could beat them down and arrest them on the spot. Undercover guards, however, at least carried a longsword and their moves would have been purposefully clumsy. These two, as inept as they were, looked to be beset by a lack of strength and an overloaded case; guards would have used a case filled with leather scraps and not bothered themselves with an actually heavy load. These two were indeed legitimate.

A mass of green hair fell into Entreri's current line of vision. Salmryn had practically skipped over the merchants and motioned to the case. The merchants' sour expressions brightened and they took their usual positions with Salmryn easily holding up the middle part of the case. They probably figured Salmryn for a simply helpful young man of benign heritage.

Entreri cocked an eyebrow; apparently junior was as much the budding hero as his papa.

The three carried the case a few steps, Salmryn clumsily trying to find some handgrips on the bottom…when he had so easily lifted and carried it from his first position. Entreri's gaze sharpened on the scene, something wasn't entirely right here.

Salmryn nimbly passed under the case, prompting a few light words of "be careful" from the merchants. At last he looked satisfied with where he was, until the toe of his boot caught a cobblestone and he tripped forward. Salmryn's trip only looked to last a moment, though Entreri saw muscles strain in a downward direction and his hand shove into the lower back of the second merchant.

The second merchant was thrown off balance. He recovered himself quickly though not before the end of the case plummeted to the ground. Salmryn rapidly came out from under and looked to try to stop the case's descent by putting his hands on the side near the lid. The merchants were too distracted by the fall to notice Salmryn's fingertip press against the single leather snap for a moment, though Entreri caught onto it quickly.

The lid of the case flew open and a mass of fur stoles, silver goblets, and loose chains practically exploded from the case and landed on the street in a small pile on the ground with the case falling in the middle.

The two merchants huffed and groaned, though neither looked at Salmryn with any angry eye, nor did Entreri hear any yells at the newcomer.

Salmryn gave a dramatic groan and ran a hand through his hair, giving a mass of apologies to the merchants though both gave their own "no worries, lad" or "it was bound to happen."

Salmryn immediately crouched down and started putting items back in the case, soon joined by the two merchants.

Entreri watched the boy carefully; his vantage point and experience letting him see what the two inept hawkers clearly didn't. They were too focused on cleaning up the velvet gloves and fur hats to see a couple loose gold bracelets slip down the sleeve of a gray armored shirt or a ring or two snuck underneath a larger ring or two that already rested around the loose webs of Salmryn's fingers.

His agility made him able to palm coins underneath a poorly made cape before folding it and putting it back in the case. He kept constant distractions around him by folding items, taking pains to fit them the proper way into the case while slipping a few more thin necklaces down his sleeve one second and into his belt pouch a moment later.

After a few minutes, the entire case was repacked and Salmryn latched it. Had Entreri been one of those merchants, he would have helped the water kin and made sure a few scaly fingers were underneath the metal lid; it would be quick enough to look like an accident.

No one else in the square seemed to take more than a passing attention in the whole scene and the merchants looked beamingly grateful to Salmryn for his help. If they had seen nothing now, they probably wouldn't even notice sparse amount of jewels were missing for a long time; Entreri saw the case, even after falling over in a mess, carried a loose collection of items that were not packed according to inventory.

The merchants may have been burglars themselves carrying away their stolen goods, though the items were too shoddy to have been stolen for hawking. These two were simply high end junk dealers conned out of some of their wares by a seemingly nice-looking young man with an agility higher than most.

A few idle words later, all parties were taking their usual positions at the case and lifting it up, this time with more success. The case was taken to the firmer dirt ground a block over and the three put it back on the ground.

The merchants gave Salmryn pats on the back and thanks for his efforts, one producing a purse and giving the boy five platinum pieces. Salmryn gave a small bow while walking to the other end of the square and watching the merchants drag their case to another part of the Trade's Ward with much more ease across the gravel.

Counting the five platinum, Entreri estimated that Salmryn had made out with around 600 gold pieces worth of goods. Entreri would have made twenty times that amount when he was Sam's age, though a complete amateur would be lucky to make 50 before having his wrist grabbed. Salmryn had clearly done this before and had at least some skill that went beyond the Do'Urden agility.

Entreri's feral grin remained invisible to the rest of the square; the hero's son was hardly a saint. Maybe Regis had more influence on him than papa, and how did papa feel about this?

Salmryn stepped into the square again, crossing his arms and scanning every corner with a scowl. He then threw his hands up and walked across the square to a nearby building, opening the door and disappearing inside.

Entreri pulled up the brim of his hat and walked in the open like any other passer by, though strode through the square at a casual pace.

Junior only thought he could retreat. Maybe he could get a small head start.

* * *

A snap of the wrist send the cue ball flying into three other balls, sending two bouncing into each other before plopping with a hollow wooden click onto the leather baskets dangling from holes opposite sides of the table. The third ball spun on its own axis for a moment before Salmryn tapped on the green felt of the table and sent it flying to a nearby pocket.

Salmryn sneered at the five remaining balls on the table, including the one black and white painted one with an "8" painted on two sides.

He laid his pole on the table gently at first though the loud clank indicated he could have cared less about anything.

Salmryn leaned against the table, taking a look out the small door that separated the game room from the rest of Danny Gorgon's Tavern, a tiny establishment that was no more than a watering hole and shady meeting spot for mercenaries.

The smell of fresh cut wood and paint fumes lingered, signaling this side room as a recent construction separate from the rest of the tavern. Small tables lined one end of the room with side barriers for dice or coin while the main part of the room was dedicated to four tables on which Sticks and Stones, the newest gambling favorite, could be played.

The side room would likely be a way to contain any fights that broke out over losing or cheating and keep all of it away from the usual drinking. It may have done that but Salmryn still smelled the parchment and herbs from where magic had been traded while a few specks of mind dust and dried blood still lingered along the borders of the card table. It was an out of the way spot perfect for clandestine dealings.

Salmryn had been completely alone in this room for the past five minutes, practically slamming the balls on the Sticks and Stones table with two-arm lengths wooden pole. He could hear a few conversations going on in the main room, though only three haggard looking patrons sat at the bar with the bartender nowhere to be found.

Salmryn preferred the silence right now; it calmed his nerves a bit and allowed him some time to fully reflect on the situation.

Artemis Entreri never showed himself. For whatever reason, out of cowardice or the desire to aggravate him, Salmryn saw no sign of Entreri at all and they were supposed to meet nearly an hour ago.

Salmryn lifted the small bottle of a potent Calishite cactus liquor, known as to the locals as Cactus Spit, and poured himself his second shot glass full. His choice of drink was only fitting for everything that had happened that night. He picked up the glass while placing the bottle next to the empty glass still sitting on the side of the table, silently toasting it before downing the burning contents.

He methodically placed his glass back near the bottle with a small cough as the liquor's burn slowly melted away.

A heavy sigh later, the pole was back in his hands and poised to hit the white wood cue ball once more. Another flick of the wrist and four balls shot to the four corners of the table, each landing in a pocket. Salmryn grabbed the pole by both hands and hoisted it above his head with a whispered victory roar.

His attention turned to the "eight ball" as he swung the pole into one hand and mentally aimed the shot.

He looked at the table, though caught a sudden motion from the corner of his eye; another pole whipping toward him. He adjusted his grip on the pole and easily parried the second; a wave of energy went down the wood as his eyes suddenly met a familiar pair of cold black eyes.

Salmryn didn't have a moment to think on how Entreri was finally in front of him before the human disengaged his pole and lunged in a blur. Salmryn did a quick step back and lightly smacked the tip away from him before the other pole swung and made a bid for his head.

Salmryn parried the pole while feeling the swipe's air current in his ear. He gave another rapid feint before aggressively lunging for Entreri's midsection; defense time was over.

Entreri smirked at the lunge, parrying it and swiping for him again, aiming for a feint to the stomach before aiming for the side, though Salmryn managed tap the tip of his pole on the first swipe and readily meet the second.

Salmryn saw a sudden opening around Entreri's legs and aimed for it; though the other pole was tapping hard against his and sending him back on his feet. Salmryn growled and rapidly parried Entreri's next two swings before swiping for his neck. The other pole tapped against his, though he rapidly disengaged and lunged for his shoulder.

Entreri moved to parry the blade, though it disengaged briefly in a feint, briefly that was until the tip of Entreri's pole smacked against the middle section of Salmryn's.

The vibration went down his pole and made him lose a stable grip for a second enough for Entreri to smack against it again in an attempt to dislodge it. Salmryn's grip suddenly recovered and the pole lunged again before suddenly swinging.

Entreri chuckled, engaging Salmryn's pole in a rapid feint before aiming for his legs.

Salmryn parried the swing easily, though recognized the feint only before seeing the tip an inch from his shoulder. He tried to recover his swing, though felt a stinging smack against his opposite shoulder. He brushed off the smack, though lunged aggressively. His lunge was tapped to the side though he swung for Entreri's neck and was only lightly parried.

Salmryn smirked as he rapidly disengaged and tapped a series of feints.

Entreri then slammed his own pole into Salmryn's. Salmryn recovered quickly only to meet another aggressive swipe. He managed another parry and lunged at Entreri's neck, though the other pole twisted his for a moment.

Salmryn disengaged before feeling the tip of the other pole pressed against his throat.

Salmryn held his arms out, gulping at the sickening press against his windpipe while looking at Entreri with a smile. If the human wanted to kill him, now would be his opportunity.

Instead, Entreri gave a hearty chuckle, drawing the pole back and giving a casual salute. A heaving sigh of relief escaped Salmryn's lungs.

"You're late," Salmryn said, a smirk forming as he felt his confidence creep in closer where he wanted it.

Entreri laughed again. This one had just had a wooden pole poking at his windpipe and was suddenly confident a moment later.

"Midnight had just struck when I entered the square," Entreri replied, lightly tapping the cue ball with his thumb so it rolled in its own space. "And I did say midnight."

Salmryn chuckled. Of course he wasn't going to make this easy.

His adrenaline waning, Salmryn only now noticed the black cloak hanging alongside his brown one on the wall rack along with a black brimmed hat. Entreri lined up a shot and a moment later the eight ball was sailing into a pocket.

"Was it time wasted, or infinitely more productive," Salmryn said, pouring himself another glass. "Or maybe you had a hard time finding me."

"It was my time and I spent it how I did," Entreri said with a small smile, seeing the empty second glass and the familiar bottle of cactus liquor. "And you are a green-haired, scaly creature with skin too dark to be a genasi; pardon me for saying but you stick out a bit more."

Salmryn cocked an eyebrow before downing the contents and choking back his brief cough before smacking the glass back on the table. He had a feeling of where Entreri was going with this, yet it was not entirely settling.

"Let me guess, you just saw me enter the square and were once again taken by my beauty," Salmryn said, putting a hand through his hair. "I don't mind being a muse, though you are a little out of my interests."

Entreri cocked an eyebrow and gave him a calm glare, seeing a few sweat drops return though fade quickly; the boy was getting a bit more comfortable around him.

"Alas you have me," Entreri said. "I am especially admiring your beautiful silver tongue, though you won't be so beautiful when it cuts your own throat."

Salmryn chuckled, his hands going into each pocket and bringing each ball back on the table.

"So why were you watching me," Salmryn said with a slight tone of irritation. "Did you want me to leave, or watch me squirm a bit before making your grand appearance? Maybe you wanted to see me break out swords and call you out across the square."

"Instead I've watched you go from casually strolling to nervously pacing to just standing," Entreri said, walking closer to Salmryn and speaking in a lower tone, "to amusing yourself with two rather clumsy traders."

Salmryn smirked though a glean of sweat shone on his forehead before suddenly disappearing.

"Oh you saw that part, didn't you," Salmryn said.

"All 600 gold pieces of it," Entreri said, "though you really shouldn't volunteer to close the lid after ripping off some merchandise. A wary person would have accidentally made sure your thumbs were in the right position under that lid before you even knew what was going on."

"But they weren't very wary," Salmryn said, taking the statement as it was. "And I would know better than to try to steal from you."

Entreri smirked, hands going in the pockets and putting the rest of the balls on the table. He grabbed a triangular wooden frame from a nearby table and gathered all the balls in it within a moment.

"300 gold for the winner, and I claim reds," Entreri said, seeing Salmryn's eager sneer and nod in response. "Regardless, what makes you think I was not in the guise of a trader just to test you."

Salmryn smirked in response, though Entreri could see a bit more sweat.

"I'm the son of a noble hero who would not dare do such an ignoble act," Salmryn said, a dramatic hand to his chest.

Entreri found himself giving a loud cackle. Salmryn grimaced for a second before smirking and laughing as well.

Entreri grabbed the bottle and poured some of the clear liquid into the empty glass. He toasted it before downing the contents and putting the glass back on the table with a perfectly straight face.

"You are one ballsy lad," Entreri said. "I typically greet such spunk with the pommel of my sword, though you with all the petty larceny, decent sword tactics, and that rapier wit of yours, you have actually amused me. And that, my friend, is compliment enough for you."

Salmryn laughed and gave a small bow. Entreri lifted the frame and tossed it aside; centering the cue ball and making a shot that sent the mass of balls scattering, three balls with red balls going into pockets. Salmryn made a silent clap as Entreri bowed and was an inch from him a step later.

"Are you trying to prove something to me," Entreri said, his smile a sneer and face stiff. "Are you trying to curry my favor, prove to me you are Drizzt Do'Urden's son in blood only, and for what reason?"

Salmryn's smile soured, though mildly recovered as Salmryn positioned the cue ball and mad a shot that sent two red balls bouncing off the sides of the table and propelling two yellow balls into pockets.

"I have to admit this is a momentous occasion for me," Salmryn said spinning around and facing Entreri. "It's not every day you meet the man who your father once considered a mortal enemy. But then my father has had plenty of those whether he admits it or not, so I consider you just one out of a dozen."

"Though a mortal enemy of Drizzt Do'Urden is a mortal enemy of the rest of his family," Entreri said, repositioning the cue ball with a thump and taking a shot with three balls flying and bouncing off the rest of the pile, two red ones going into pockets

Salmryn's face was now expressionless as he positioned the cue ball. A hard shot later, three yellow balls went into pockets, though a red one joined soon after.

"You sunk one of my balls," Entreri said, seeing a bit more strain on Salmryn's face.

"And I am not my godsdamned father and what my family does is their business," Salmryn snapped, lavender eyes boring through Entreri. "You can do with that what you will."

Entreri cocked an eyebrow, seeing a calm anger in the boy's eyes. That told him much.

Salmryn wanted to regret the words, though he more regretted Entreri's ability to stir up his emotions. But then again maybe his emotions did not need that much stirring, but then this was the last person he wanted to reveal anything too…or was he.

Entreri went around the table, aiming a shot near the center of a split group of balls. The tip of the pole smacked against the cue at the right angle for both to change positions and sink two red balls. Most of the red balls were in their pockets, while he had just needed to stick a toe in the ground with Salmryn and found a vein of molten ore.

How deep this one ran could only be determined though his tiny bit of paternal instinct raised a small alarm.

"Interesting," the human said. "Usually the son of a legendary hero wants to put himself in the same league as his father, to make his own name if nothing else; unless of course papa's a true bastard with a too-glowing reputation."

Salmryn spun toward the table, positioning the cue ball and making an aggressive shot, sending three of his own balls spinning around the sides of the table. He lightly tapped the table and two of them went into pockets.

Entreri saw the blatant move and was tempted to say something, though was getting too much out of the current line of conversation to interrupt progress.

"It would truly make your black little heart pound with joy to hear that," Salmryn said.

"It would give me an excuse to snuff out his miserable existence," Entreri said, further testing the waters as he casually aimed his shot at a series of balls, tapping in the right way to send the rest of his balls bouncing off each other before plopping one by one into pockets. "Maybe he is worthy of another go, maybe my paternal instinct will demand that much."

"I would say your ego would as well, though you have already told me he has been dead to you for twenty years," Salmryn replied, grabbing the cue ball though not taking his eyes off Entreri.

"Twenty years up until now perhaps; meeting his son may have renewed my drive."

Salmryn cocked an eyebrow. Entreri saw no pride or anger in his face; neither did he see any eagerness. An expression of sad resignation was subtle yet clear.

"You'll find him in Moonwood, occasionally in the company of elves though mostly alone," Salmryn said, pushing the ball out on the table and sending the few remaining balls on a casual roll. He wanted it all out at last.

"What of the mighty Companions of the Hall," Entreri said, taking a calmer yet no less direct approach.

"Still at the Hall," Salmryn said, feeling the back of his throat tighten. "Their days of great adventure mostly past save for the occasional exploration. Mom and Uncle Wulfgar run a blacksmith shop in Silverymoon; grandpa is a bit cozier on the throne with Regis acting as diplomat. My cousin guards her birth mother's house in Aukney and visits every Midsummer."

"And papa is removed from all of it; by choice?" Entreri said.

"By circumstance," Salmryn replied, the biting tone more obvious.

"So how does your father fare? You were never entirely clear on that."

Salmryn sneered. If one person was going to know everything, Artemis Entreri was only perfect.

"He lives in the southwest section of Moonwood," Salmryn said. "He wanders, though he's not hard to find if you talk to the right people. Just follow the trail of dead orcs and dead werewolves because that is his life now. I think you should challenge him again, though I can guarantee you will not have a fair fight."

"And why is that."

"Because you two would clash blades for an hour before he threw himself on yours," Salmryn said.

It was an overstatement, though it screamed out all of the concerns he had in the past year. A few deep breaths prevented tears from drawing to the surface and he worked to maintain a somewhat calm expression.

Sadness and rage were only displayed on those dark features. The boy disliked his father to whatever extent yet was scared for him.

Entreri maintained an expression of dead calm, a part of him somewhat puzzled yet a part of him shouting in glee. Drizzt Do'Urden had always called his existence worthless while standing beside his loyal companions and his principles. Now his companions were gone, his miraculous son could barely stand to be associated with him, and he hunted creatures to keep focus off his own apparent misery.

Entreri now thrived, finding inspiration and satisfaction in his craft. He was 62-years-old and in perfect fighting condition with the shade's essence and his own intense training and had found success in a city that had exploited him. Above all he relished his time with his son, his partner and an extension of himself in so many ways.

Now whose existence was worthless?

A part of him wanted to dismiss everything Salmryn said as pure drama meant to lead him astray somehow. The look on his face, however, was the look of a young man laying everything bare; either by choice or trigger, his emotions were pouring out.

"And why are you telling me all this?" Entreri said, taking another step closer.

"You asked."

"You didn't have to say a damned thing, yet did so anyway. You do realize no matter how noble your father is he will not have the best reaction when he finds out you told me all this, but then he wouldn't have the best reaction at seeing a few more things you've done just tonight let alone you entire life."

"I told you, I'm not him," Salmryn said, the finality clear in his voice.

"Or so you say," Entreri replied. "Would you rather be like me?"

Salmryn dropped his pole on the table and leaned back with arms crossed.

"I would rather be like me," he replied. "Whatever that means at all."

"You would rather be a cocky child with little direction taking his thrills when he can," Entreri said. "The novelty dries off quick the first moment the fun times turn very very serious. Have you ever taken someone's life, and I'm not talking an orc or goblin. A human? A dwarf? A drow maybe?"

"I have," Salmryn said plainly. "Hardly in slaughter though it has happened."

"Have you ever killed on orders, maybe as a Skullport hiresword," Entreri said, recalling another thing Khallis told him about Salmryn. "Have you ever taken money for killing someone?"

Salmryn's features hardened, telling Entreri much.

"I have, though nothing I was proud of," Salmryn said, feeling a bit more exposed.

Entreri nodded, clearly reading the boy's discomfort. It was not the reaction of a goodly person yet it was not the boasting of an upstart. He was telling it like it was though with neither shame nor pride.

Entreri turned back to the table, picking up Salmryn's pole and handing it back to him before repositioning the still spinning cue ball.

"Corner left pocket," he said, aiming the cue at the eight ball in the lower right of the table.

A wrist flick later, the cue bounced off a yellow ball that went flying to the side. It then shot across the table into the eight ball, causing it to bounce off several other balls before landing gently into the corner left pocket.

Entreri put his pole on the table and faced Salmryn.

"So what are you trying to prove," Salmryn said, the back of his throat still tight.

Entreri leaned against the table resting on one arm.

"Nothing," he replied, "I just wanted answers and you have already provided."

"Happy?"

"Satisfied."

Entreri grabbed the wooden frame and casually placed it on the table.

"You'll want your 300 gold now," Salmryn said.

Entreri waved his hand in dismissal and walked to the cloak rack.

"Khallis is a clever person; very intelligent and very shrewd though his temperament needs a lot of work," Entreri said, grabbing his cloak. "He is the regular social butterfly, but he is surrounded by low-lifes who would sooner take his purse or cut his throat and he is constantly aware of this. There are two people, however, he has told me he doesn't feel any need to keep constant guard for; the first being that mercenary earth genasi you already know and the second would be you."

Salmryn's eyebrows rose with the sudden softer, yet no less firm tone. Entreri put on his cloak while walking closer to Salmryn, the scowl returning.

"Khallis told me he doesn't want to see that ruined over an old quarrel," Entreri said. "I will respect that wish, though that is my end of the bargain. If I were you, I would not whisper a word of our meeting to any member of your family."

"And I would not want any such whispers either," Salmryn said, a smile forming.

"Your father is dead to me and I would rather keep it that way," Entreri sneered. "Do I make myself clear?"

"My father is barely alive anyway, I think you need not worry," Salmryn replied.

Entreri grabbed his hat from the rack and put it on with a smirk.

"Well met, Salmryn Do'Urden," Entreri said with a bow. "Dinner is on you during my next visit."

Salmryn nodded, watching Artemis Entreri turn to the bar and walk for the door; his head turning for a moment and giving Salmryn a wink before walking away.

* * *

"Salmryn Do'Urden," a refreshingly familiar voice said the moment Salmryn closed the door.

Salmryn chuckled, seeing Khallis reclining on the couch, the soft glow of a single lamp on the side table the only light in the apartment.

Khallis slid to a sit, both arms resting on the top of the couch. The faint light illuminated a small, glass hookah sitting on the coffee table with a familiar tea tin next to it.

"Khallis Entreri," Salmryn said grandly.

Khallis made a small bow, watching Salmryn plop down in a nearby easy chair. He was tempted to say his name was still Khallis Raen, though all were details that could be smoothed out later.

The two looked at each other thoughtfully, thoughts of a thousand fights and cross words from the past going through both of their heads. Simultaneous smiles and laughs broke through the silence.

"You do realize this means we will have to coordinate family visiting schedules very carefully now," Khallis said.

Salmryn snickered, watching Khallis take a pinch of green leaf from the tin and put it in the bowl of the hookah.

"What makes you think your won't come back here to finish me off and see you smoking that," Salmryn said.

"For own thing, he does value his rest after a long journey," Khallis said, striking a tindertwig and lighting the contents on the bowl. "For another thing I think he likes you."

Salmryn laughed and nodded. That was at least some of the impression he got.

Khallis put a small brass cover over the bowl before taking one hose and inhaling the smoke shallowly before blowing it out luxuriously.

"What makes me think you didn't add some nightshade to this mix to be rid of a family enemy," Salmryn said.

Khallis' raised eyebrow produced a laugh from Salmryn; trust was really not an issue despite everything.

Salmryn took the second hose and inhaled deeply, his tension melting away and replaced by a light euphoria. He held the smoke for a moment before giving a long exhale.

"It was Alvey Moore wasn't it," Salmryn said.

Khallis nodded. "And the official report at my next visit to the library confirmed everything," he said.

"And all tonight."

Khallis gave a tired chuckle with Salmryn following along.

"Fate works in truly screwed up ways, my friend," Khallis said, taking a draw.

"I think it works the way it should work," Salmryn said, taking a light draw and blowing a few smoke rings, "especially for us."

"Maybe this is the happy ending of years of hunting and fighting and bleeding," Khallis said. "Our fathers were content to cut into each other; we're content to just sit here in each other's company. Maybe we're the ones meant to be civilized."

"Maybe we're just smarter in the long run," Salmryn said, taking a long draw and savoring the quiet before exhaling. "Or maybe we're just too lazy."

Khallis cackled, the most gleeful thing Salmryn had ever heard out of his roommate.

"This does mean I need to meet your father," Khallis said, taking a draw and quickly exhaling. "I'm most curious to see what he's actually like."

"He has his moments," Salmryn said, "though is capable of being jovial when motivated, though it takes a lot."

"Though I swear Uncle Jarlaxle will be more amusing to be around when he visits," Khallis said, a grin forming when seeing Salmryn's eyes go wide and his jaw slightly drop.

"I'll buy him a drink and toast his ego," Salmryn said.

Khallis laughed joined by Salmryn's own cackles at the thought.


End file.
